The Mouth of Setesh
by Marnal
Summary: Part 1 in a series of 7, eventually! The 7th Doctor and Ace meet some old friends, and the legacy of an old enemy. This story takes into account some of the events in the BBC book The Bodysnatchers, as well as events in the original TV series.
1. Chapter 1

In the twinkling vastness of space the most wondrous things are found. The silent gas dirigibles of the Hoothi drift between the stars, some of them as large as moons, ferrying their ancient passengers through the inky blackness. Great helices of energy swirl and pulse with terrible sentience, their convoluted minds bent to purposes beyond the comprehension of our poor organic brains. A glowing Rutan war-geode speeds towards battle in a war without end, without hope, its crystal facets reflecting the light from a sun it is about to destroy. Death comes to a Sontaran outpost in a beautiful prismatic spray of colour, and a million years of art and philosophy come to an end as the population of Samkhya V is wiped out along with Commander Skryle and his regiment of elite troopers. A line on a map is redrawn, the galaxies spin on. And a small blue box tumbles through the void, the lamp on its roof flashing out a warning, its engines groaning and thumping as it prepares to land.

"We're here!" exclaimed the Doctor, looking up from the chess board. There was no one else in the room as the rising and falling of the column in the centre of the console came slowly to a halt. He remembered that Ace had left the control room four hours ago, that she had asked him a question, and that he had not answered. He rested his chin back onto to his hands and stared again at the board, "We're here."

- - -

Anton shone his lamp over the crates and trunks in the luggage compartment. He paused briefly on the large crate that the Sultan had brought on board, wondering what it might contain, then continued on, the light coming to a halt on the tall blue box in the corner. He frowned slightly, he couldn't remember that being loaded on. Still, it all seemed quiet in here, there was nothing to explain the strange noise he thought he'd heard coming from inside. He shook his head as he closed the door, returning to his duties.

The door on the blue box opened, and the Doctor stepped out into the gloom. Only the faintest glimmer of light came in through the small windows high in the walls. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small penlight, flicking its narrow beam over the dark objects that filled the room.

"Are you coming out?" he asked, without turning round.

"What's that noise?" said Ace as she came out of the TARDIS, pulling on her black bomber jacket. The was a rolling, rumbling, clacking sound that filled the air, the floor vibrated and rocked, the whole room swayed from side to side.

"We're on a train," he sniffed the air, "A steam train, if I'm not mistaken."

"Cool. Where's the engine?"

"Somewhere at the front, I should imagine."

"Thanks professor, I could have worked that out for myself. Which way do we go?"

"Let's try this door," said the Doctor as his light fell on the same door that Anton had just closed. He walked over to it and found it was locked. He took out a paperclip from his jacket, knelt down, and began to work at the keyhole.

Ace looked around her, her gaze falling on the nearest crate, which happened to be the one that Anton had looked at earlier. It was taller than it was wide, and loomed out of the shadows, its top a good two feet higher than her head. She took a torch out of her pocket and gave the crate a more detailed inspection. It had "Archaeological Museum Istanbul" stencilled across the front, which was hinged to open towards her like a door. She gave this door an experimental tug, but it seemed firmly nailed shut. She gave up on it and turned back to watch the Doctor.

"By the way, you never answered my question. Where are we going? Or should I say, where are we?"

"I thought I'd take you to see a Noh opera. We might catch Kan'ami performing Matzukaze, it we're lucky"

"Do they often perform opera on a train?"

"Ah, well, not usually. No opera for us, I think…"

Ace groaned, "That's really weak, professor"

There was a click from the door, the Doctor looked up at Ace, smiling, "Let's see what's on the other side, shall we?" He stood up, opening the door and doffing his hat simultaneously. "Ladies first"

- - -

The dining car was pleasantly lit by soft electric lights on the walls, and by small oil lamps at each table. Anton passed through the car, carrying a tray with a silver cover over it. The train lurched and Anton staggered slightly, brushing against the arm of a middle-aged gentleman sat at one of the tables.

"I am so sorry sir," apologised Anton, in an outrageous French accent, "please forgive my clumsiness."

"Don't worry, my good man!" exclaimed the diner, "No harm done, eh?" He was a slightly plump figure, hair receding from his temples, with a dark moustache and long, rather old-fashioned sideburns. He was wearing an extravagant dinner jacket, although the style was more suited to a Victorian dinner party, than his current surroundings. A generous glass of brandy sat on the table in front of him, and he held a huge cigar in his right hand.

He looked across at his dinner companion, another middle-aged fellow, but with grey hair and a more distinguished look about him, although he too had the same slightly out-of-date look about his clothes and hair style.

"One has to expect a little hardship whilst travelling, what?"

"Quite true, Henry," said the grey-haired gentleman, "A very philosophical attitude, if I might be so bold."

"You may, George," said Henry, puffing on his cigar, "I pride myself in my practical philosophical persuasion."

"You are very kind, gentlemen," said Anton, with a slight bow, "Now, if you will excuse me, the Sultan is waiting for his supper."

As Anton walked away, Henry looked knowingly at George, "Sultan, eh? Must be the Sultan of Rajmanali, I read about him in the Times this morning. Rich as Croesus, so I hear."

"By Jove, I think you're right!" exclaimed George, "I read he was travelling to Istanbul to donate some items to the museum there. Bit of an amateur archaeologist, so I hear."

"Archaeology, eh? Maybe the luggage car is replete with Roman remains!"

"I hear he's more interested in ancient Egypt. Pharaohs and pyramids, that sort of thing. Not my cup of tea, really, I'm more interested in the far east."

Henry shuddered dramatically, "I've had enough of the far east for one lifetime, thank you!" He picked up his brandy glass and took a medicinal swig to calm his nerves.

"I say! Who's that coming into the car? Jolly rum looking fellows!"

George had noticed two people at the far end of the dining car. A short middle-aged man wearing a light-coloured suit jacket, plaid trousers and a panama hat. He was carrying an umbrella with a handle shaped like a large, red question mark. With him was a young man in a dark jacket and trousers, looking vaguely military. As George looked the young man turned his head to one side to reveal a pony tail.

"Upon my Sam!" George's eyes went wide, "That chap's a lady!"

Henry turned in his seat, "You're right! And they're looking this way."

The man in the hat was smiling at them, and lifting his umbrella in greeting. He began to walk towards them.

"They're coming over, George. Look sharp!"

The strange little man walked towards them, looking for all the world as if he had spotted two old friends. He came right up to their table and tipped his hat to them.

"Professor George Litefoot? And Henry Gordon Jago?"

"Indeed sir," replied Litefoot, "but you seem to have us at somewhat of a disadvantage."

"Yes," joined in Jago, "Would you mind telling us who you are and how you come to know us?"

"Ah," said the strange man, looking worried, "This might be a little tricky…I know this will seem impossible to you, but I am the Doctor."

If the Doctor was expecting shock or disbelief, then he was disappointed. Litefoot looked a little surprised at first, then a knowing look came over his face.

"Another one of you chaps, eh? There must be something pretty queer going on if they've sent one of your lot." He turned to Jago, "See Henry, another one of these Doctors."

Jago looked less impressed by this knowledge than his friend.

"How do we know he's one of them? He might be bluffing us"

"That's true, can you verify what you say, Doctor?"

"Wait a minute," said the Doctor, looking confused, "You mean to say you're not surprised to see me looking so, ah, different?"

"Of course not, that other Doctor explained it all to me"

"Other Doctor?"

"Yes, you know, the young man. All that business back in '94"

"You mean to say this is the third time you've met me? I mean, met one of us?"

"Yes, they must have told you about it. He helped stop…"

"Wait!" cried the Doctor, "Stop right there! Something has gone horribly wrong here." He pulled Ace aside, and whispered fiercely to her, "We have to leave, right now. I think the timelines have become crossed. I have no memory of what he's talking about, he must have met me in my future."

"What!" Ace looked unconvinced, "But he said you were a young man, how can your future self be younger than you are now?"

"It's a long story", said the Doctor, "I'll explain it in the TARDIS"

The Doctor tipped his hat again to Jago and Litefoot, "I'm sorry gentlemen, I must have made a mistake. We really must be moving along now." He was already dragging Ace by the arm towards the exit, ignoring the nonplussed questions and exclamations of the two gentlemen.

"Hold on!" said the indignant Ace, "What's going on?"

Before they were halfway across the car, the door at the end burst open, and Anton came running in, looking pale and frightened.

"The Sultan!" he cried, "He's been murdered!"


	2. Chapter 2

The room erupted in a confused series of exclamations and questions. 

"Murdered?" asked a shocked Jago.

"Sacre Bleu!" said the porter behind the bar.

"Good Lord!" cried Litefoot.

"Who's the Sultan?" enquired Ace.

"Not again…" whispered the Doctor, so that only Ace could hear him. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd turned up somewhere just after an unexplained death had occurred. And who were the obvious suspects? The mysterious strangers, of course. He had a horrible suspicion that this time wasn't going to be any different.

A handsome, athletic man was sitting at the bar, an untouched glass of whiskey in front of him. He stood up and slapped his hand on the wooden surface of the bar, causing the room to fall silent. "You!" he shouted in a commanding voice, looking at Anton, "Pull yourself together man, and tell us what's happened."

"Yes, Colonel Huntington, I am sorry." Anton's face became professionally impassive again, and he straightened out his jacket. "I was delivering the Sultan's supper to his room, and I could not get an answer. I used my pass-key to enter his room, and I found him laying in bed. He has been stabbed through the heart."

"Professor Litefoot, you're a pathologist, aren't you?" said the Colonel, "Would you please take a look at the Sultan and give us your professional opinion?"

"Of course." Litefoot replied. "Henry, would you please go to our compartment and fetch my Gladstone bag?"

As Litefoot and Jago left the car, the Doctor made to follow them, ushering Ace along in front of him. "Shouldn't we stay and help?" she asked.

"Where do you two you think you're going?" asked the Colonel. "And who exactly are you?"

"We were just going to help Professor Litefoot with his examination. I'm the Doctor, and this is my assistant, Ace." The Doctor gave the Colonel his most charming smile. Ace gave him a sullen pout. She was getting a bit fed up with being dragged and pushed around with no explanation. Not that there was anything new in that, she supposed.

"I don't think you should go anywhere at the moment. Not until you can give a satisfactory account of yourselves."

Ace looked like she was about to say something rude, so the Doctor quickly stepped around her, raising his eyebrows as he turned past her to indicate that he would do the talking.

"Yes, of course." said the Doctor "We'll just retrieve our papers from our baggage and I'm sure we'll have this all cleared up in a moment." He began moving towards the door again.

"Stay where you are." There was something hard and cold about the Colonel's tone that made the Doctor stop and turn to face him. The Colonel had drawn a pistol from his pocket, and was pointing it towards the two of them. "Until you can persuade me otherwise, you two are the prime suspects in the Sultan's murder. I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave this carriage."

"What makes you think we had anything to do with this?" asked the Doctor, his smile gone.

"Yeah, we're just passing through. You've got nothing on us." Ace chipped in, looking angry now.

"Passing through? On a train! I've never seen you before. Where have you been hiding, on the roof? At best you two are stowaways, unless someone here can vouch for you." He looked quizzically at Anton, who responded with a Gallic shrug. "Does anyone know these people?" asked the Colonel.

At that moment, Jago reappeared, looking flustered, and a little green. "Terrible business, I feel quite ill." he said, mopping his perspiring face with a huge silk handkerchief. He caught sight of the gun, and realised the people in the carriage were all staring at him.

"I say, what's going on here then? What's all this with the gun, Colonel?"

"Do you know these two, Jago?"

"Well, yes. That is to say, I think I do."

The Colonel looked unimpressed with Jago's equivocal answer. "Either you do or you don't Jago, make up your mind."

"Well, I don't know them personally, but I know the Doctor by, er, reputation. He is a famous detective, solves cases for Scotland Yard, and all that."

"Detective?" The Colonel looked appraisingly at the Doctor. "How do you come to be here on the train?"

"We were expecting something to happen on this journey." said the Doctor, seizing his chance. "We just didn't know when, or to whom. We have been undercover, trying to gather information. Unfortunately it looks as though we are too late to prevent the crime."

"Undercover, eh?" said Jago, tapping his nose with his finger. "That explains it all then. Look here Colonel, no need for any unpleasantness. Why don't you put the gun away old chap?"

The Colonel didn't look entirely convinced, but he put the pistol back in his jacket pocket. "Well, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for the moment, but I'm still going to have to ask you to stay here, until we find out exactly what's happened."

"Well, let's get all the other passengers in here, and the Doctor can give them all a good grilling, and we'll soon have this sorted out." Jago sounded quite enthusiastic.

"Are you willing to do that, Doctor?" asked the Colonel.

"It looks like I haven't got much choice. But I will need to speak to the passengers separately and in private." He turned towards Anton. "Is there an empty compartment I can use?"

"Certainly, Sir. The train is only partly full, as this is a special service. Come with me, please."

The Doctor and Ace followed Anton out of the door at the other end of the carriage. Close behind them was the Colonel, who still watched them suspiciously. Jago could be heard asking the porter for a large brandy. Anton led the group past two compartment doors, then used his pass-key to open the third. The Doctor and Ace walked inside. The Colonel hovered around the doorway. "I'll be just outside Doctor, don't get any funny ideas about making a break for it."

"Will you please ask Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago to join us in here? I'd like to question them first." The Doctor spoke to Anton, ignoring the Colonel.

"Very well, Sir." Anton nodded to the Doctor, and hurried off to find Litefoot and Jago. The Doctor pulled the door shut, leaving the Colonel out in the corridor, and sat down on a chair, his hands resting on his umbrella handle in front of him.

"What do we do now, Professor?" asked Ace. "We can't get to the TARDIS with Colonel Mustard out there."

"I think we're going to have to play along with this for a bit. We'll have to be very careful not to let Litefoot or Jago tell us anything about the future, the consequences could be disastrous. I hope the damage hasn't already been done…"

- - -

Litefoot had just finished using a magnifying glass to examine the stab wound to the Sultan's heart. The weapon was still in it: a silver letter opener with the Sultan's crest on the handle. He began checking the rest of the body for signs of injury or struggle. The Sultan had been a large man, the sort of deceptive bulk that looks like fat at first glance, but has solid muscle underneath it. A man like this could put up quite a defence if he had to. Litefoot checked the Sultan's hands, to see if there was any sign of hair or skin under the finger nails. The right hand was partly under the bed cover, along with the lower half of the Sultan's body. When Litefoot pulled the cover back he let out a small gasp of surprise. The little finger of the right hand had been cut away! He checked the floor, under the covers, and even under the fold-down bed, but could find no sign of the missing finger. Puzzled, he went back to his examination of the body. There were no other signs of damage that he could see, although the expression on the Sultan's face indicated that he had not passed away peacefully.

There was a polite tap on the door, and Litefoot stood up to see Anton hovering in the doorway. "Professor? The Doctor has asked to speak with you. I have already asked Mr. Jago to go through to compartment 192."

"Yes, thank you Anton. I'll just wash my hands and I'll be with you." Litefoot scrubbed his hands clean in the small sink in the adjoining bathroom, then left, carrying his bag with him.

"Allow me, Professor." Said Anton, offering to carry the bag.

"I can manage, thank you Anton. Actually, would you mind locking the door with your pass-key? Don't want anyone tampering with the scene of the crime." Litefoot gave a last, thoughtful look at the Sultan's body as Anton slid the door shut and locked it.

- - -

Jago was already there when Litefoot arrived in compartment 192. He sat down next to him, facing the Doctor. Ace stood next to the window, watching the dark shapes of trees flash past in the night. Litefoot opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor held up a warning hand.

"Professor Litefoot, before you say anything, I must warn you that the events you referred to earlier with the 'young man', are matters of national security. Even I am not privy to the details, and I must ask you to make sure that it stays that way."

"Mum's the word, eh Doctor?" Litefoot nodded in a conspiratorial fashion.

"Most commendable." Said Jago "Can't be too careful with these things. Never know when there might be some queer cove concealed in a cupboard, listening at the keyhole." He looked round the compartment as if checking for spies.

"Now, I have some questions for you two." Said the Doctor, getting down to business. "Am I correct in saying that this is the Simplon Orient Express service?"

"Orient Express? Cool!" Ace interrupted, looking impressed. "Do you think David Suchet will show up in a minute to sort this all out?"

"David Suchet? Is he one of your colleagues?" asked Litefoot.

"Not exactly." said the Doctor "Please, Professor…?"

"Oh, yes. This is the Simplon service. Paris to Istanbul, using the southerly route."

"But the Simplon didn't start running until 1919, did it Professor?"

"If you say so, Doctor." Litefoot was starting to look a little uncomfortable. "Not really a train buff myself."

"What year is it now, Jago?"

"Year?"

"Yes, the year, Henry."

"Well, it's 1926. Is this some sort of coded greeting thing? I am supposed to know the password?"

"Gentlemen, when you met my colleague during that incident with Magnus Greel, the year was 1889. That means that the two of you are now over ninety years old. Can you explain to me how it is that you haven't aged at all in the last thirty-seven years?"


	3. Chapter 3

"You told us not to tell you anything about the occurrences with the other Doctors." Said Litefoot.

"Yes, top secret, and all that." Chipped in Jago.

"I can assure you I'm fully familiar with the events that occurred when you met the Doctor for the first time. I know all about Magnus Greel and his insane experiments. And I know how he masqueraded as the god Weng Chiang in order to gain the worship of the Tong of the Black Scorpion."

"Ah, well in that case I suppose we can tell you what we know, although there's a lot of guesswork involved." Litefoot seemed relieved, and a little excited.

"It's all rather rum." Said Jago. "It happened after Greel was killed in the House of the Dragon. That was what they called that den in Whitechapel. I'll let George explain the scientific side of it, I'm a bit of a duffer when it comes to that sort of thing."

"Well, you know that Greel was killed when the Doctor pushed him into the Time Cabinet? There was a bright flash of light and Greel's body was reduced to ash."

"So I've heard." The Doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Afterwards we had the police in, and the Time Cabinet was brought back to my house. After all, it had been in my family for years. Present from the Emperor Tungchi, you know." Litefoot looked as though he was about to start an anecdote concerning the history of the cabinet.

"Please, Litefoot, we must get to the bottom of this quickly." The Doctor urged.

"Yes, of course. Anyway, along with the cabinet, the police brought the rest of Greel's equipment, including the distillation machine. There were some notes as well, although I couldn't make head nor tail of them at first. I had the whole lot put in storage, and didn't think about it for years."

"You see, we didn't realise at first that there was anything unusual going on." Jago couldn't resist joining in the narrative. "George and I were both into our middle years, so we didn't notice that we'd stopped aging until much later. By that time we had more or less lost touch with each other."

"Of course, I did eventually realise that something was amiss. When you celebrate your seventieth birthday and you still look middle-aged, you can't really fail to think something queer is going on. I began to study my own body, taking measurements, examining my hair and skin, looking at samples of my blood. I came to the undeniable conclusion that my aging process had slowed to such an extent that it was practically unnoticeable."

"So you're going to live forever then?" Asked Ace, who had stopped looking out of the window.

"Well, not forever, young lady, but a good long time, barring accidents."

"What did you do when you realised this?" The Doctor asked Litefoot.

"Well, I started looking for the cause. It didn't take me long to work out that it must have been something to do with Greel. After all, that infernal machine of his had kept him alive by sucking the life out of all those poor girls. I got all his notes and equipment out of storage and began to study them. It took me years to work out even a fraction of what he had been doing, but it was enough for me to make an educated guess as to what was going on. You see, the Doctor had talked about the Zigma beam that had powered the Time Cabinet. When Greel died there must have been a huge release of energy."

"Of course!" cried the Doctor, jumping to his feet. "And that would have interacted with the modulator nodes of the distillation machine."

"Quite so, Doctor. The Zigma energy was channelled by the nodes and directed out at all of us in the room."

"Then the chronotron particles active within the Zigma beam must have combined with the DNA resequencing function of the distillation machine to put your cellular decay into a state of temporal latency."

"You've lost me now Doctor, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry, Litefoot, I was just thinking out loud. But if it was channelled out into the room, then it must have affected everyone. All the Tong members, Leela, and… the Doctor."

"That was my conclusion as well! I tried at once to trace the Tong members who had survived, but they had all gone to ground. I contacted Scotland Yard, in the hope of finding the Doctor and Miss Leela, but they denied any knowledge of them. However, I was able to find Henry quite quickly, and he confirmed my theory."

"I've never been so glad to see someone, as I was to see George when he turned up on my doorstep, looking the same as he had been all those years before. You see, I thought I was some sort of freak of nature. Mrs. Jago passed away not long after the business with Greel, and we'd never had any children, so I was able to hide my longevity with makeup and wigs and suchlike. Nobody but me realised I was still in the prime of my life."

Ace raised her eyebrows as she glanced down at Jago's ample midriff, but the Doctor shot her a glare and she kept silent, merely smiling to herself.

"Since then, Henry and I have been constant companions. We found ourselves more and more alone, as friends and loved ones passed away. We are relics from a time gone by, you see. Each year the world becomes less and less like the one we grew up in."

Litefoot looked glumly at the floor, lost in thoughts of yesterday. Jago put a hand on his arm.

"Cheer up old chap, things aren't so bad! At least we have enough pecuniary power to purchase the essentials of life. We're both pretty well set up." Jago did his best to cheer Litefoot up. He looked over to the Doctor and said, proudly "I got out of the theatre business and invested in moving pictures. Turned out quite well, if I do so say myself. I own a string of picture houses now, the Oriental Cinemas, perhaps you've heard of them?" He turned to Ace, looking hopeful.

"I think there was an Oriental Cinema in Perivale, they turned it into a Bingo hall. Shreela's gran used to go there on a Thursday night."

Jago looked confused, but before he could say anything the Doctor interrupted, looking shrewdly at Litefoot "And what about you, George? How did you make your fortune?"

"Well, it's hardly a fortune, but I am comfortable. There were a number of technical documents amongst Greel's papers, and I was able to patent a few ideas. Nothing major," he added hastily, as the Doctor looked somewhat disapproving, "didn't want to draw attention to myself. Just a few electrical gadgets. That sort of thing. Anyway, I make enough money from the patents to keep body and soul together."

The Doctor walked over to the window, and stood next to Ace, one hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. A few moments passed, only the background noise of the train breaking the silence. Suddenly he turned round to face Litefoot and Jago, his eyes full of frightening intensity. "What did Anton mean when he said this was a special service?"

"Well," said Litefoot, "Someone has hired this train, at great expense, I'm sure. There are only two passenger carriages, one either side of the dining car. We received an anonymous letter, inviting us to attend the grand opening of a new hotel in Istanbul. Also included were tickets for the train journey. We didn't realise it was a private service until we were aboard."

"What made you decide to respond to an anonymous invitation?" Asked the Doctor.

"Well, the truth is, it gets rather boring, living so long." Replied Litefoot. "Despite living a comfortable life, things start to seem a little repetitive. We thought this might be an exciting change."

"It's an odd thing really," said Jago, his normally jovial features falling into a somewhat despondent expression, "but after all the time I've spent making a success of myself, I now find that life's lost it's edge somehow. Can you understand what I mean, Doctor?"

The intensity faded from the Doctor's face, to be replaced with a sad smile. All of a sudden he seemed to look a lot older, a lot more tired. "I think I know how you feel, Henry."

"Hey, lighten up, Professor!" Ace broke through the reverie, grinning. "It might never happen!"

"I'm afraid it already has." The Doctor told her, but he was smiling in a happier way now. The energy returned to his face, and he looked over to Litefoot. "Tell me what you found when you examined the Sultan's body."

"Ah, well now, this is most queer. The Sultan has been knifed through the heart, as Anton said. But that's not what killed him. From the condition of the wound, and the amount of blood, I'd say that he was already dead for at least three hours when he was stabbed."

"Can you tell what did kill him?"

"I think he might have been poisoned, but I can't be sure without a full autopsy, and I haven't got the equipment here to perform one of those. I'd need to send blood samples to a laboratory for analysis as well."

"Interesting." The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he processed the new information. "I think I might be able to help you there." He reached into his pocket and took out the TARDIS key, handing it to Ace. "Take this and fetch my blood analysis machine from the small gallery in the TARDIS. The one next to the Orangery."

"What's a blood analysis machine doing in the small gallery?"

"I was testing to see if Gauguin was anaemic. It's a long story." He said, as he saw the look of puzzlement that Ace was giving him. "Just fetch it and bring it back to me, as quickly as you can."

"What about Colonel Blimp? I don't think he'll be too happy about me going off on my own."

"We'll see about that." The Doctor strode across the room and slid the door back with a bang. The Colonel, who had been leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, jumped to attention, looking startled. He soon recovered his composure, however.

"Well, what's going on then, have you got it all solved?"

"I need some equipment from my luggage. My assistant here will go and fetch it, if that's acceptable to you."

The Colonel looked a little wary, but he agreed, on the provision that Anton went with Ace to keep an eye on her.

"I'd like to speak to Anton next, as he found the body. Can you send the porter instead?"

"Fine. Just be as quick as you can, young lady."

"Yes sir!" cried Ace, giving him a mock salute.

Anton, who had been hovering around in the background, disappeared to fetch the porter. He returned in a few moments, bringing with him the tall, thin man who had been serving drinks when they arrived in the dining car. "Frederique will accompany you, Mademoiselle." Frederique gave her a small bow.

"Great. Come on then Freddy, let's get going." She made for the door at the end of the corridor, Frederique following behind her.

"Ace!" The Doctor called after her.

"What?"

"Don't get sidetracked, will you?"

"As if!" Shouted Ace over her shoulder, as the door banged shut after her and Frederique.

"Now, Anton, if you wouldn't mind, I need to ask you a few questions." The Doctor ushered him into the compartment. "Professor Litefoot, Mr Jago, would you be so kind as to wait in the dining car?"

- - -

The door to the luggage car opened again, and Frederique held it open for Ace. She walked into the room, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

"How come there are no lights in here?" She asked Frederique.

"There _are_ lights, Mademoiselle, but the switch was broken when we were loading one of the larger crates on board. We didn't have time to have it repaired before we left."

"Let's have a look at it then. I bet I can sort something out."

Frederique showed her where the switch was, and the casing had indeed been smashed, exposing the wires inside. Ace pulled out a penknife from her jacket, and quickly stripped the wires down, then carefully spliced them together. The lights came on, flickered for a moment, then all went out simultaneously with a load pop.

"I think you have broken them, Mademoiselle."

"Looks like it." Said Ace, "And stop calling me Mademoiselle. My name is Ace."

"Yes, Madem… Ace."

Ace got her torch out again, and walked over to the TARDIS. "Wait for me here." She told Frederique, as she opened the door with the Doctor's key, and went inside.

Frederique was left alone in the gloom. As he looked around at the trunks and crates he caught sight of the large crate, the one which belonged to the late Sultan. He frowned as he realised there was something wrong with the silhouette of the box. He walked over to it and saw that the front panel had been prised open, it had just been pushed closed, but it wouldn't close all the way as there were still nails sticking through the front panel. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled the panel open fully, it swung easily on its hinges. Inside he could just make out a tall shape, taking up most of the inside of the box. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He struck one, and in the flare of light saw what was inside the box. It was a sarcophagus, one of the Egyptian types. He had seen them on the news reels at the cinema. It was standing upright, in the rough shape of a human body, and a painting of the occupant was visible on the lid, full of rich colours and set with gold leaf.

The match burnt down to his fingers and he dropped it, cursing. He quickly lit another one and held it higher to look at the face on the head part of the lid. It had the impassive, timeless look of Egyptian art, and for some reason it made him feel uneasy. The eyes seemed to stare right through him, and in the soft, flickering glow of the match they looked horribly lifelike.

The second match burnt out, and as he fumbled to light another one he heard a soft, creaking noise, coming from directly in front of him. He took a step back and managed to get a match lit. By the light of the tiny flame he looked in horror as the lid of the sarcophagus swung open, to reveal the occupant inside. It was a mummified body, wrapped in bandages like the ones he had seen on the movie screen. But instead of being shrunken and withered, this one was tall and bulky, with a great barrel chest. It had a large domed head, with dark, circular depressions where its eyes should have been. And it was moving! An arm was pushing the lid open, its head was turning, as if looking around. Its sunken eyes came to rest on him, as the lid fully opened. The other arm came up, reaching towards him. He tried to move, to cry out, but he seemed frozen, unable to act. It took a step forwards, and the match burnt out, plunging Frederique into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

"Please sit down, Anton." The Doctor waved a hand towards the seat opposite him. He had already sat down himself, and was giving Anton a searching look. Anton felt uncomfortable sitting down with a passenger, but something about the Doctor made him feel it would be easier if he did as he was asked.

"Do you know who paid for this special service?" Asked the Doctor.

"I do not, Sir. Before we set out I did not even know who was to be on board. I was only told that the passengers would have special tickets, and were to be treated with the utmost delicacy."

"Delicacy?"

"Yes, sir. As I understand it, the passengers are from very… varied backgrounds. Whoever hired this service wanted to make sure that they were afforded as much privacy and tolerance as possible."

Anton was obviously embarrassed about being so candid with regard to the guests, so the Doctor decided to take a slightly different tack.

"Can you tell me who the passengers are?"

"Ordinarily not, Sir. But under the circumstances…"

"Thank you, Anton, you are being most helpful."

"I wish to cooperate fully. I would not want you to think I had anything to do with the Sultan's murder."

"I don't believe you were involved with the murder, Anton. I have seen many killers in my time, and the look in your eyes when you came into the carriage after finding the Sultan's body was not that of a murderer."

"I saw a lot of death during the Great War, we all did. I had hoped not to see such violence again."

"You were in the trenches?"

"Yes, and I fought in the Nivelle Offensive, in April 1917. One big push… It was supposed to end the war for France, but thousands of us died, all for nothing. There were delays… And Neville could not keep his mouth shut, kept telling the newspaper men about his plans. When it finally went ahead the Germans were ready for us." A bitter look came over Anton's face. "We were like cattle to the slaughter."

"Yes, I remember." The Doctor spoke quietly, barely a whisper. There was a far-away look in his eyes, as if they were focussed on another place, somewhere else in the great sea of time. The compartment fell quiet for a while, both of them lost in their memories.

Slowly the Doctor's attention came back to the carriage, his eyes resting on Anton's troubled face.

"You were going to tell me about the passengers?"

"Yes… Yes, of course." Anton smiled gently, the moment passed away. "There are eight passengers altogether. Seven now that the Sultan is gone. You know Mr. Jago and Professor Litefoot, and you have met Colonel Huntington. There is also the Contessa Di Lucera and her manservant; the Sultan's secretary, Mr. Prewett; and Harold Crowley, the famous mystic."

"Harold Crowley? I think I know that name." The Doctor frowned, trying to recall where he had heard it before.

"I am not surprised, Sir, he has been in the papers a great deal in recent months, he and his Elixir."

"Elixir?"

"Yes, he apparently has the recipe for a potion that heals all ills, and grants long life to its drinker. He claims to be over 200 hundred years old, and that he has never had an illness in his life."

"Does he now? How very interesting."

"Of course, I believe it is nonsense, he is nothing but a charlatan, exploiting the gullibility of the rich and famous, those who have nothing better to spend their money on."

"You are probably right, Anton. Still, it gives me something to think about."

The Doctor jumped up to his feet and began pacing back and forth in the compartment. He stopped in front of the window, watching Anton in the reflection.

"Tell me what happened in the time leading up to the Sultan's murder. Start with the last time you saw him alive."

"That would be last night, Sir, at around eleven o'clock. He and Colonel Huntington were playing Backgammon in the dining car. They were playing for money, and I think the Colonel was losing, as he did not look very happy, and he was drinking a great deal."

"Who left first, the Sultan, or the Colonel?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, Sir. I had to leave to take a tray to Mr. Crowley, he prefers to eat in his compartment. When I got back they were both gone. Perhaps Frederique would know, he was serving at the bar."

"I shall speak to him as well, shortly. Was there anyone else in the dining car?"

"No, Sir. Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago had already retired to bed. Mr. Prewett was working on some papers in his compartment, I had taken him in some coffee at half past ten. The Contessa was in her compartment as well, as far as I remember, but I am not sure about her manservant. I recall seeing him in the corridor sometime earlier in the evening, but I could not tell you the exact time."

"Which carriages are the guests staying in?"

"The Contessa, her servant, Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago are in this carriage, the one directly behind the engine. The Sultan, Mr. Prewett, Colonel Huntington and Mr. Crowley are in the one on the other side of the dining car."

"You didn't see the Sultan today then? He didn't come out for breakfast, or lunch?"

"No, Sir. He often missed breakfast, he was not an early riser. I took a tray to him around noon, but he just grunted when I knocked, and did not answer the door. I tried again at tea time, but he shouted 'Go to Hell' at me, before I could even knock. When I tried this last time, there was no reply at all. I became worried and tried to speak to Mr. Prewett, to see if he knew if there was anything wrong. When I got no answer from him either, I used my pass key to open the door. I thought the Sultan might be ill. That was when I found him, dead."

"Thank you Anton, you have been very helpful. I think that's all the questions I have for you at the moment. Would you please ask Colonel Huntington to come in here when you leave? I might as well speak to him next."

"Very good, Sir." Anton rose, made a small bow, then left the compartment, asking the Colonel to step in before he slid the door shut again.

- - -

The door of the TARDIS opened, and Ace stepped out wearing her backpack, waving her torch in front of her.

"Freddy? Where are you?" She asked loudly, surprised that the porter was not waiting for her. "I was only gone ten minutes. More or less."

As she shone the torch in front of her, she noticed that the wooden door of the large crate was open. She moved closer, shining the light into the box. The sarcophagus was visible inside, the lid was shut.

"Wicked! Tutankhamun!"

Ace step forward to look at the detail on the lid. Curiosity got the better of her and she reached out a hand to touch the gold leaf on the painted face. As she touched it, the lid began to open. She snatched her hand away and stepped quickly backwards. The lid swung open and a figure lunged towards her. She side-stepped and the figure fell to the floor, unmoving. Ace shone the torch at the figure and was horrified to see the lifeless body of Frederique sprawled at the foot of the sarcophagus, livid bruising all around his neck. She bent down to check his pulse, not expecting to find one. There was nothing. "Fred's dead." She thought to herself, and suddenly felt a sickeningly inappropriate urge to laugh.

A noise from behind the crate caused her to jump up, a surge of adrenalin vanishing all thought of laughter. A tall, bulky shape was moving out from its hiding place. In the light of her torch she saw the mummy shuffling towards her, its hands outstretched.

"Bloody Hell!" Said Ace, as she looked frantically around for an escape route. The mummy was between her and the carriage door, and there was no way she could get the TARDIS open in time. The carriage was filled with boxes, crates, parcels wrapped in brown paper, and a few trunks and suitcases. In desperation she grabbed a nearby parcel with her free hand and threw it at the advancing creature, taking great care not to drop the torch. The parcel bounced off the mummy's head without slowing it down at all, and then hit the floor with a loud smashing noise. Ace fleetingly wondered if it was anything valuable, she hoped it wasn't some priceless urn destined for the museum.

She didn't have time to think about this for long, as the mummy's arm swept round and hit her full in the chest. She was actually lifted off her feet and flew backwards through the air, crashing into a large steamer trunk. It felt as though an anvil had hit her, and she struggled to her feet, wheezing for breath. The torch had slipped from her hand when she landed, and now it rolled around the floor, the beam illuminating random bits of the carriage. Bright spots swam in front of her eyes, and there was a ringing in her ears. The torch beam fell momentarily on the mummy, which was still moving towards her. She started to panic now, backing away from the oncoming monster and wildly flailing around, pushing over crates and throwing anything that came to hand. The mummy swept aside the obstacles as if they were empty cardboard boxes, and Ace might as well have been throwing feathers at it, for all the good it did.

She was at the other end of the carriage now, and she saw that a light was coming from somewhere. There was another door, the light was coming through louvered slats in the top part of it. Of course! She should have realised there would be a door at each end. Hope welled up inside her as she ran over to the door, grabbed hold of the handle, and twisted. It was locked. She rammed the door with her shoulder, but it held fast. She twisted round and saw that the mummy was almost on top of her. It raised an arm to hit at her, she shouted "No!", but it didn't react, its blank face gave nothing away. Ace's eyes were wide with fear as the mummy's fist came hurtling towards her head with the force of a sledgehammer.


	5. Chapter 5

Colonel Huntington stood with his hands behind his back, staring down at the Doctor. The Doctor had sat down again, his legs crossed, his hands in his lap. His umbrella leant against the seat, resting where his leg met the red leather.

"Wouldn't you feel more comfortable if you sat down?" Asked the Doctor.

"I prefer to stand, thank you."

"Whatever makes you happy." Said the Doctor amicably, not looking the least bit discomfited. "Now, I need to ask you a few questions."

"Very well. Let's get it over with." The Colonel looked less than enthusiastic.

"I understand you were acquainted with the Sultan?"

"Only as a travelling companion. I'd never met him before this journey."

"Did you know Professor Litefoot before this journey?"

"No, why should I?"

"You knew he was a pathologist. You asked him to look at the Sultan's body."

"I'd become acquainted with him at the start of the trip. Him and Jago."

"You seem to find it easy to make friends."

"I enjoy the company of other people, despite what you might think from current appearances." A sardonic smile hovered over his lips for a moment, briefly transforming his grim features. "It's a pleasant change for me to be able to talk freely with my peers, my previous circle of friends are no longer very communicative."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"You haven't heard about me? I'm surprised, I thought a detective would keep himself abreast of all the society scandals. Still, I suppose Looney Lionel has been yesterday's news for a long time now."

"Looney Lionel?"

"Yes, that's me, Lionel Huntington, the man in the moon."

"Tell me more."

"Is that really necessary? I can't see how it would be pertinent to your investigation."

"Everything is pertinent to my investigation, or at least, it could be. Please tell me your story."

"My story? My tall tale, if you believe what the newspapers said at the time." The Colonel looked bitter again. "Very well, for what it's worth, I'll tell you my 'story'." He paused a moment, composing himself. He took a cigarette from a silver case in his blazer pocket, then, as an afterthought, offered the case to the Doctor.

"No, thank you. I don't smoke any more, I underwent aversion therapy some years ago."

"Aversion therapy? What's that? A new treatment from Dr. Freud?"

"Not quite. I was just lighting my pipe when someone hit me over the head with a rock. I've had an aversion to smoking ever since. Anyway, it's very bad for your health." The Doctor decided not to mention that with his body's regenerational capabilities, and his respiratory bypass system, he could happily smoke sixty a day without ill effect.

"My health is not really a matter of concern to me, Doctor. I haven't been ill for more than twenty years." Said the Colonel as he lit is cigarette and took a long drag.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "And to what do you attribute your good health?"

The Colonel didn't answer directly. "How old do you think I am, Doctor?"

"I'd say you were in your mid thirties. But appearances can be deceptive."

The Colonel drew himself up slightly, as if bracing himself for something, and said "That is quite true, Doctor. I am actually 62 years old. My health, and my apparent age, are a direct consequence of my visit to the city of the Ancient Ones."

"Where is that?"

"It's on the moon, Doctor." The Colonel looked at the Doctor to judge his reaction, the Doctor just stared back at him impassively. "I travelled there in a beam of light, and the Ancient Ones gave me a new body."

- - -

Ace braced herself for the blow, getting ready to throw herself to one side. As the mummy's arm shot forwards the train rounded a bend, causing the carriage to lurch to one side. This threw the mummy slightly off-balance, and Ace took her chance and dived the other way. The mummy's fist missed her head by an inch, crashing through the louvered slats in the upper part of the door. The mummy went to retract its arm, but found it was caught by the splintered pieces of wood, which were tangled in its bandages. It yanked harder and the entire upper panel of the door came away, still stuck to the mummy's arm. The mummy shook its arm, trying to dislodge the panel. When this failed it started smashing the wood against a nearby crate.

Ace quickly appraised her situation. The mummy was still between her and the other exit, but now there was a large hole in the door nearest to her. It would only take the creature a few moments to rid itself of the wood, so Ace knew she only had one option. Wincing, she got to her feet and dragged herself head first through the hole.

She found herself on a small balcony-like platform, looking back at the tracks as the train rumbled over them, devouring the miles. The moon was out, and she could see mountains in the distance. She turned back to the door, just in time to see two bandaged arms thrusting through the gap after her. She pushed backwards to avoid them, bumping into the railing around the platform, almost over-balancing. She saw a ladder going up to the roof of the carriage, so she sidled over to it, taking care not to come within reach of the mummy's grasp. As she began to climb, she could hear the mummy knocking down what was left of the door.

- - -

"I was in South Africa when it happened." The Colonel lit another cigarette, his hands shaking slightly. "It was 1902, in the Western Transvaal, and the war there was in its final stages. The Boer's were fighting a guerrilla war. I was in a column with Lord Methuen when it was attacked and Methuen was captured. I was badly wounded and left for dead. I remember lying there in the dark, staring up at the stars, waiting to die. But I didn't die. I could see a star, moving across the sky, but then it stopped. It grew larger and larger, as if it was moving towards me. Then there was a blinding light and I felt myself lifted up into the air. I fell unconscious, and when I awoke I was in a white room, lying on a bed. My wounds had been healed, and I felt wonderfully calm."

The Colonel was staring into space, the cigarette in his hand had gone out, unnoticed. All the angry bitterness had vanished from his face, and his hands no longer shook. He looked as though he was lost in his memories, and he seemed to be at peace with himself.

"What happened then?" The Doctor prompted him gently.

The Colonel blinked, his eyes refocusing on the Doctor. "After a while, one of the Ancient Ones came in to speak to me. She was tall and thin, and wore a white robe which covered her face. Her hands were grey and thin, almost skeletal. She told me that some of her people, the Ancient Ones, had been watching the battle from their ship in the sky. After it was over they saw that I was still alive, and decided to take pity on me. They brought me to her and she had tried to heal my wounds, but the damage was too great, so she had made me a new body. A better one, she said."

"You said you saw their city, on the moon?" The Doctor was watching the Colonel intently. The Colonel smiled slightly, as if embarrassed.

"Are you humouring me, Doctor? You must think I'm mad. Everyone else I've told this story to certainly has."

"I don't think you're mad, Lionel. Nor am I humouring you. I have heard stories like yours before. Nothing you have said so far is unbelievable to me."

The Colonel's eyes lit up, an almost desperate look of hope filled his face. "Really? You are the first person I've met who seems to show genuine belief. Others said they believed me, wanted to hear my story, but they turned out to be journalists after something sensational to print in their rags, or spiritualists, convinced I'd crossed over to the other side through a tunnel of ectoplasm, or some such nonsense."

"Tell me about the city."

"Well, there's not much to say, I was only there for a few hours. At least that's all I remember. When they returned me to Africa it turned out I had been gone for two months. Anyhow, after she had told me about my new body, the Ancient One opened up a section of the wall to allow me to look out. It seems we were in a tall building, looking out over a small city of white buildings, all covered in glass domes. Outside the domes it was desolate grey rock and dust. I could see a ridge of mountains in the distance, circling round us, as if we were in a huge crater. And above us, in the dark sky, I saw the most wonderful thing I have ever seen in my life. It was the Earth, Doctor! Our planet, our beautiful world, hanging there, so blue, so serene. I could see the Americas, and the Pacific ocean. White clouds twisting over Asia. I shall never forget it, if I live forever, that sight will stay with me."

The Colonel seemed transformed at the memory of what he had seen, the Doctor could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he shook himself, composing his features back into their usual gruffness.

"After a while she closed the wall up, and told me it was time for me to go. I lay down on the bed again, and she put a hand on my forehead, and I fell asleep. When I woke up I was back on Earth, in an army hospital. When I tried to tell them what had happened they thought I was shell shocked at first. Then they thought I was mad. There was even talk that I had deserted, and was trying to cover up my cowardice with some cock-and-bull story. It was soon clear that my military career was over, and once the story hit the papers the scandal ruined me completely. My family tried to have me committed, my friends disowned me. I went to live in India, tried to start a new life."

"When did you realise you weren't aging anymore?"

"It took some time. I have always led a healthy lifestyle, seldom had any illness. But after a few years I noticed that I hadn't been sick at all since I'd been to the city of the Ancient Ones. Then there was a smallpox outbreak in the district I was living in. All the servants in my household died, but I was spared, even though I've never been inoculated. As more time passed it became apparent that I was not growing any older. I started to move to a new area every few years, never keeping in touch with any friends I'd made. I didn't want anyone to suspect that I was some sort of aberration."

"Yet you told me about it readily enough."

"Yes, Doctor, I did. You see, I came to a decision just recently. I am tired of living such a lonely life, tired of always moving on, leaving my friends behind me. I drink too much, I have gambled most of my money away. My youngest brother died a few weeks ago. I came back to England for the funeral. I didn't tell my family I was coming, they all think I'm dead. When I stood there at the graveside, with my other brothers and my sister, none of them recognised me. My sister asked me if I was a distant cousin of ours. I realised then that my life was over. I should have died on that field in Africa, a hero. Not lived on like this, a man with no purpose, no prospects. When I received the invitation to come on this trip, I thought, why not? One last journey. From Istanbul I will travel back to India, to put my affairs in order. Then I plan to go out into the jungle, and I do not mean to come back. I don't care who hears my story now, Doctor. But I'm glad you did."

The Doctor's sad eyes were watching the Colonel throughout his revelation. Compassion welled up in him. He wished he could say or do something that would help the Colonel, but there were no words that would make any difference now.

"Thank you, Colonel, I think we're finished here now. You have been very helpful."

"Who would like to speak to next?"

"Could you please arrange for the Contessa and her manservant to call on me?"

"With pleasure, Doctor."

The Colonel gave the Doctor a mock salute, which the Doctor returned, then slid open the compartment door and left the Doctor alone with his thoughts.

- - -

Ace pulled herself up onto the top of the luggage car, and crawled along it on her hands and knees, the wind doing its best to blow her back off the roof and onto the tracks. Her ponytail whipped behind her over her backpack. She paused to look back and saw with a kind of horrified resignation that the mummy was following her, it's hands appearing on the edge, followed by its head as it lifted itself up.

"Oi! Bog roll face!" She shouted at the mummy. "You'd better stay where you are, if you know what's good for you." She knew it was an idle threat, given what she'd seen of the mummy's abilities, but she felt better for letting off some steam.

She knew she would have to move faster than the mummy, if she was to stand any chance, so she carefully stood up, leaning into the wind, trying her best to balance as the train rocked from side to side. Slowly she began to walk forwards, towards the other end of the car. When she got halfway she stopped and turned her head to check on the mummy's progress. It was now standing upright at the end of the car. It had surprisingly good balance for something so big and heavy. As she watched it lifted up one leg and stepped forwards. Slowly, but methodically, it began to follow her along the roof.

She couldn't move too quickly, for fear of slipping on the slightly curved roof. But she also knew she couldn't let the mummy catch up with her, so she walked on as fast as she dared, holding out her arms on either side of her to help her balance.

When she reached the other end of the carriage she stopped to look back again. The mummy was gaining on her, it was nearly two-thirds of the way along the roof. She couldn't climb down the gap in between the carriages, as there was a kind of canvas tunnel linking the two together. There was only one thing for it, she would have to jump.

"Here goes nothing." She said to herself, before jumping forwards over the gap.

She cleared the gap with only an inch to spare. The wind caught her and she nearly fell over. She was forced to fall onto her hands and knees again. She crawled along, looking back at the mummy. It was nearly at the gap, and she had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't have any trouble in getting over. She was desperately cold now, the wind was blowing through her thin black jacket, and her hands and feet had gone numb. Still, she wasn't ready to give up yet, so she forced herself to her feet again and began to move.

As fast as she tried to go, the mummy was still catching up with her. She thought briefly about jumping off the train and taking her chances with gravity, but she knew at the speed the train was going that would be too dangerous. Besides, how would she get back to the Doctor and the TARDIS? There was only one thing for it, she would have to face the creature, and try and knock it off the roof, before it could grab her. If she could react faster than it could, maybe she would be quick enough to catch it off guard.

"Come on then!" She cried, as she turned round to face it. "Have a go, if you think you're hard enough!"

She braced herself for the quick lunge she needed to make. The mummy appeared to sense her plan and slowed down, seemingly watching her, waiting for her to make her move. She was just about to dive at the mummy, when a change in the noise made by the train prompted her to turn her head. A wave of cold fear washed over her as she realised that the reason the noise had altered was because the front part of the train had gone into a tunnel. The side of a mountain loomed dark and solid and she was now hurtling towards it with barely a second in which to act before she was smashed against the unforgiving rock.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor paced the room, seemingly filled with restless energy. A slight frown sat on his forehead as his mind processed all the information he had collected. There was a tap on the door, he stopped pacing and turned towards it expectantly.

"Come in."

The door slid open and a look of disappointment momentarily flashed across the Doctor's face when he saw Litefoot standing in the doorway.

"Colonel Huntington sent me to tell you that the Contessa is not in her room."

"Where is the Colonel?"

"He's at the bar, Anton is filling in for the barman. Seems like the Colonel needed a stiff drink after speaking to you. Between you and me, I think he might be getting a bit tight."

The Doctor smiled the gentlest of smiles. "I hope I don't have that effect on everyone."

"From what I've seen of him, and from the few conversations we've had, I would have to say that the Colonel is a troubled man."

"We all have our troubles Litefoot, and our ways of dealing with them. Whatever gets you through the night, as the bard said."

"Shakespeare said that?"

"I was thinking of the Liverpool bard." The Doctor saw the look of confusion on Litefoot's face. "Sorry, a bit after your time."

Litefoot decided to let the matter drop. "Can I fetch anyone else for you? I'm sure the Contessa will turn up soon, there are not too many places to hide on a train."

"Perhaps you could ask Mr. Crowley to come and visit me?"

"Ah, well, you may be out of luck there. I overheard Anton saying he had gone to warn the other travellers that you might want to speak to them, and apparently Mr. Crowley made it very clear that he wasn't coming out of his room for anyone."

"Very well." Said the Doctor, with a mischievous look on his face. "I could do with a change of scenery. Let's make a house call." He pointed his umbrella towards the door. "Lead on, Macduff!"

"The Bristol bard this time?"

"Well, almost. Will insisted on keeping his version: 'Lay on, Macduff'. I told him no one would know what he meant in 400 years time, but he wouldn't listen. That's the trouble with writers, always think they know best…"

---

Ace did not even think before she acted, instinct alone made her dive forward, between the mummy's legs. It reached down to grab at her, but before it could touch her there was a terrible crunching bang. The mummy smashed into the side of the rocky hill, and was scraped along the top of the train. Ace pressed herself as flat as she could, willing her body to sink into the roof.

The creature fell off the end of the train and tumbled along the track, coming to a rest in a hideously twisted position, like a carelessly discarded rag doll. Ace saw nothing of this, her mind was a blank of adrenalin and rushing blood. The roof of the tunnel rushed by above her, a few scant inches of clearance between her and a painful and bloody death.

A small stalactite, formed over the years as mineralised water dripped down from the rocks above, ripped through Ace's rucksack. The contents scattered over the roof. An empty can of Irn-Bru, saved for recycling on the first civilised world, bounced over the side of the train. A half-eaten packet of Spangles, liberated from the seventies, hit the tunnel ceiling, burst apart, and shattered into a cloud of coloured sugar crystals. Her diary, containing a naive but beautiful poem about a handsome young sergeant, and a signed photo of Paul Weller, cart-wheeled backwards along the train and fell down the gap between the carriages and was crushed under the train wheels. And the blood analysis machine slid away from her and lodged in the gutter at the edge of the roof, balanced precariously, ready to fall at any moment.

---

The Doctor arrived at Crowley's compartment. He turned to Litefoot and said to him, "Can I ask a favour of you?"

"Of course." Litefoot looked quite eager.

"Can you go back to the other carriage and check all the compartments and see if you can find the Contessa? I'll check this carriage when I'm done with Crowley."

"Very well, Doctor, I'll do my best."

"And if you see Jago can you ask him to pop along to the luggage car and see what's keeping Ace. She should have been back by now."

"Henry's at the bar with Colonel Huntington, I'll nab him on the way through."

"Good show, Litefoot!" Said the Doctor, clapping him on the shoulder.

The Doctor turned to Crowley's compartment as Litefoot left the carriage. He lifted his umbrella and used the question mark handle to knock on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, this time more forcefully.

"Go away." said a quiet voice, just above a whisper. "I told you I didn't wish to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry, but this is very important. I must ask you some questions about the Sultan." The Doctor waited for a reply, but none came. "You do know he's been murdered, don't you?"

There was another pause, and then the Doctor heard the door being unlocked from the inside. It slid back to reveal Crowley, sagging against the wall on the other side of the doorway. He was a tall man, but thin to the point of emaciation. He was handsome, in a wasted sort of way, but he didn't seem to have paid much attention to his appearance. He was unshaven and his greasy hair hung limply about his pallid face. However, his clothes drew the eye away from all this. He wore beautiful orange robes of the finest silk, with a golden-yellow sash around his waist and diagonally across his chest. The robes billowed out below his waist in a skirt-like fashion. His legs were covered by white stockings, and he wore a pair of silk slippers on his feet, the toes curling up slightly at the end. A necklace of pearls hung round his neck, and behind him on the bed the Doctor could see a plumed turban with a large ruby fixed to the front of it.

"So you're this doctor the steward mentioned." Crowley looked at the Doctor without enthusiasm. " I suppose you'd better come in." He turned away from the Doctor and slumped onto the bed. The narrow bed was covered with a rich bedspread and piled with cushions. A red silk scarf had been draped over the electric light on the wall, giving the compartment a subdued and slightly oppressive feel. The smell of incense hung in the air. Incense, and something else… The Doctor noticed a hookah pipe on the night stand next to the bed. As he watched, Crowley took hold of the pipe's smoking tube and brought it to his mouth. He sucked in and the water in the pipe-bottle bubbled as the smoke was drawn through it.

"Care for a smoke, old man?"

"Yet again I must refuse." The Doctor sat on a small chair, facing Crowley. "By the way, I like your outfit, it reminds me of Shah Jahan."

Crowley smiled at this, and tilted his head towards the Doctor, acknowledging the compliment. "Thank you. I like to imagine him wearing something like this whilst gazing wistfully out of the window of his prison-palace at his beloved Mumtaz's tomb."

"Sounds very romantic, doesn't it? I wonder if he really did plan to build another Taj Mahal for himself, out of black marble?"

"I suppose we shall never know. The best laid plans of mice and Mughals, eh?"

The Doctor said nothing but continued to look at Crowley as he lounged on the bed.

"So, what brings you to me? Are you going to interrogate me? I can't tell you anything, you know. I was in my room the whole time."

"You seem to spend a lot of time in your room, Mr. Crowley."

"I find the company of other men… tiresome. I prefer to spend my time in quiet meditation."

"I heard that you spend a great deal of time in the company of some very rich people."

"It's true, I sometimes offer my services to those who can afford them. I have a certain commodity which some people find desirable. I give a consultation and a prescription, if necessary."

"For a small fee, naturally?"

Crowley smiled again, but without any real mirth this time. "Naturally. I have… requirements which necessitate a reasonable level of financial security."

"Have you spent much time in India, Mr Crowley?" Asked the Doctor, suddenly changing the subject.

"A great deal. I was drawn to that magnificent, spiritual country, and I was privileged enough to study under a great guru."

"So you are familiar with Indian philosophy then?"

"I have a passing knowledge." Crowley was frowning slightly now, looking guarded. "Of course one could not hope to learn everything the sages have to teach, that would require several lifetimes."

"I have heard it said that we are all bound to the wheel of rebirth, Mr Crowley. In this world of Samsara we live out as many lives as we need."

"Quite. But I don't see what this has to do with the Sultan's murder."

The Doctor ignored Crowley's own attempt to change the subject. "Perhaps you have heard of Shankara, the Hindu philosopher?"

"His name sounds familiar. I can't quite place him though…"

"He taught that this world around us is an illusion. That underneath it all, underpinning it, but unaffected by it, was Brahman: the perfect and unchanging source of everything. To escape this world of illusion all we need to do is realise that we are identical with Brahman. Knowledge of the truth expels ignorance and sets us free."

Crowley was looking thoroughly uncomfortable now, and he shifted restlessly on the bed. "Of course I know all about that, but I really can't see…"

"Look around you, Crowley!" The Doctor jumped up and took a step towards the bed. He appeared tall and menacing and Crowley shrank back into the cushions. "All this is your illusion, isn't it?" The Doctor reached out and took hold of Crowley's necklace. "Costume jewellery." He pulled hard and the string broke, sending the beads flying all over the compartment. Crowley found himself drawn to the Doctor's eyes and seemed to see himself reflected there in all his tawdry glory: the hem of his orange robe was frayed; the yellow sash had pinhole burns in it; there was a stain on one of his white stockings; and several of the flashy sequins on his slippers had fallen off. "People want to believe in what you have to offer, so they see the grand fakir walking on coals. But it's all a lie, isn't it?" He reached out to the scarf that covered the lamp and jerked it away. Bright light filled the room and Crowley threw up an arm to shield his eyes.

The Doctor stood glaring at Crowley for a moment, then seemed to retreat into himself, growing smaller and less fierce. He sat back down in the chair and crossed his legs, laying his umbrella on his lap. Crowley lowered his arm and looked at the Doctor, his red-rimmed eyes blinking as they adjusted to the new light level.

" What do you want from me?" He asked in a whisper.

"I want you to tell me what you sold to the Sultan, and why it killed him."

---

The train came out of the tunnel, and the thundering roar in Ace's ears died away. She tentatively lifted up her head and looked around. Almost the first thing she saw was the blood analysis machine, hanging on the edge of the roof. She reached round behind her with one arm and felt her broken backpack, and realised what had happened. Slowly she inched towards the machine, keeping flat to the roof, stretching out her hand to grasp it. As she touched the analyser, it slipped closer to the edge, forcing her to lunge forward to catch it, just before it tumbled off the side of the train. Breathing heavily she forced herself to her knees and began the slow, careful journey back to the end of the train.

---

Litefoot left the dining car after explaining to Jago that the Doctor wanted him to look for Ace. He made his way past his and Henry's compartments, past some empty compartments and on to the compartments of the Contessa and her manservant. Litefoot had seen the Contessa boarding the train, but had not seen her since, nor her servant. They were a funny bunch on this train, he thought to himself, only the Colonel seemed disposed to spend any time with the rest of the passengers, and he was not always the most pleasant of travelling companions. He'd seen the Sultan once or twice in the evenings, but had not spoken to him, and didn't even realise who he was until Anton had let it slip.

He reached the Contessa's door and knocked on it. There was no reply. He tried the servant's room next door, but got no answer there either. He was just wondering where to try next when he heard a voice coming from the supposedly empty compartment next door. He moved nearer to the door and noticed that it was open just a crack. Tiptoeing silently forward he put his eye to the gap and looked into the room. He could only make out a small portion of the compartment. He could see someone's arm and part of the bed. On the bed were two things, a very old looking book and a stone tablet. The tablet was rectangular and there were pictures carved into it in rows, almost like writing. Suddenly it clicked in Litefoot's mind, it _was_ writing! The tablet contained hieroglyphs, like the ones he'd seen in the British Museum. He could just about make out a cartouche, presumably containing a royal name.

As he tried to make out more of the tablet he heard the voice start up again. It was very quiet, barely a whisper, and it was impossible to make out what it was saying, or even to work out what the speaker's voice might sound like. He strained to hear more, but in vain. His attention was fixed so completely on his spying activity that he was taken completely by surprise when he felt something cold and hard poked into the small of his back.

"Turn around slowly, professor." Said the cultured English voice of his captor. "Don't make any sudden movements. I have a gun pointed at your lower vertebrae and I wouldn't want to have to send you to meet your ancestors just yet."

---

Far behind the train now, the mummy lay still on the tracks. Some of the bandages had torn away from its head, and underneath something metallically silver glinted in the moonlight. Within the mummy's artificial brain a program was coming to an end. Hieroglyphic symbols flashed across its internal monitor, as energy flows were re-routed and self-repair systems reported successful completion. Gyroscopic motors whirred into life and the mummy untwisted its limbs and stood up. The mummy's simple consciousness registered an input command: its master was using the control device and required its presence. It centred its navigational system on the control device's signal and began to move. Slowly at first it lumbered along the tracks, then faster and faster as it built up momentum and transferred all excess power to its ambulatory motors. It ran on tirelessly, through the tunnel and after the train. The wind tore at the mummy's bandages and they fluttered behind it like wild streamers. Moment by moment it was catching up with the train, and when it got there it would execute the secondary command contained in the signal: Kill the Doctor, and any who stand in your way!


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor slid open the compartment door and walked out into the corridor. He looked back at Crowley, who was slumped dejectedly on the bed.

"I'll be sending for you later." He told Crowley, a thin smile appearing on his lips. "Don't go anywhere."

Crowley just stared at him, a mixture of fear and hatred on his face. His gaze flicked momentarily to the hookah pipe on the table, and to the small black box lying next to it. The Doctor understood from this that Crowley wouldn't be going anywhere in the near future.

He shut the door on Crowley and turned to walk back to the dining car. At the same moment the compartment door next to Crowley's cabin slid open and a short, immaculately dressed young man came out and almost bumped into the Doctor.

"Excuse me." The young man said in a precise, clipped voice. Then he took in the Doctor's appearance and seemed to recognise him. "You must be the man who is investigating the Sultan's death, from the steward's description."

"Yes, I suppose I must be."

"Very good, saves me the trouble of finding you." He drew himself up and fixed the Doctor with a firm look. "My name is James Prewett, and I wish to confess to the murder of His Majesty the Sultan of Rajmanali."

"Ah!" Said the Doctor. "In that case, perhaps I'd better come inside?"

---

Ace finally reached the end of the luggage car and climbed down the ladder to the small balcony at the rear of the train, still clutching the blood analysis machine to her chest. The door to the car had been completely smashed off its hinges, presumably the mummy's handiwork. Ace paused for a moment, trying to get the breath back into her aching body. As she stared into the gloom of the carriage she became aware of a humanoid shape, shuffling towards her, its arms outstretched.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ace shouted at the figure as it advanced. "You just hit a bloody mountain and fell off a train. Why won't you die!"

"Waaagh!" Said the mummy as it tripped over some unseen object on the floor and went sprawling. "Blast it! I think I've broken my ankle."

Ace frowned. That didn't sound much like an undead tomb guardian. In fact…

"Jago, is that you?"

"Yes it is!" He didn't sound too happy. "Don't just stand there, come and help me up."

---

Prewett's room was fastidiously tidy. Everything that could be folded away or tidied away had been. There was a small table that had been folded down from the wall. On this a traveller's writing set had been placed, alongside a bound notebook which was opened to reveal a page filled with perfectly regular, tidy handwriting, which looked as though it had been written on a ruler. Prewett stood with his back to the window, his hands clasped behind him. The Doctor waited to be offered a seat, but when no invitation was forthcoming he sat down anyway at the chair in front of the table.

"So, you murdered the Sultan?" The Doctor's tone was neutral, his face was blank.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Would you tell me why, how and when you did it?"

Prewett frowned, as if the Doctor had said something slightly distasteful.

"I stabbed him through the heart with a knife, at around four o'clock this afternoon."

"That tells me how and when, but not why."

Prewett's face twitched, almost a flinch.

"Is that important? I have made my confession."

"It is very important, Mr. Prewett. Very important indeed."

Prewett pursed his lips together, breathing in sharply through his nose.

"Very well. I killed the Sultan because he caused my father's death, and was instrumental in sending my mother to the mad house."

"Tell me more."

A look almost like pain made Prewett's face screw up, and his right hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"My father worked for the Sultan as a draughtsman, when I was a young boy. He was a hard worker, and an honest man."

"Go on."

"One day he discovered, quite by accident, that one of the Sultan's distant cousins had been embezzling funds from a road-building project. My father reported this to the Sultan, expecting the cousin to be charged with theft. However, the Sultan didn't want to bring disgrace upon his family, so he contrived to blame my father for the theft instead. My father was convicted."

Prewett looked at the Doctor for a moment, then lowered his eyes to the floor.

"The punishment for theft in the Sultan's country was to have the right hand removed."

Anger flashed through Prewett, upsetting his composure.

"Can you imagine the horror and shame my father felt? A skilled draughtsman, losing his hand, his means of earning a living? Locked in a filthy cell to recover, like a common criminal?"

Prewett regained control of himself, calming his voice and returning his facial features to their usual emotionless state.

"Only he didn't recover. He contracted blood poisoning and died in that cell. My mother and I returned to England, to stay with relatives. But the shock of it unbalanced her, caused her to suffer a nervous breakdown. She was sent away to an asylum, and I was sent away to boarding school. I could only visit her during the holidays, and only then for a few hours."

The Doctor was watching Prewett closely, his face no longer neutral, but suffused with attentive compassion.

"I swore that I would make the Sultan pay for what he had done. I studied hard and did well at school. I applied to work in the Sultan's country, under an assumed name. Eventually I secured the position as his private secretary. He had no idea who I really was. The incident with my father was years ago, and he had never seen me then anyway. I waited for the right time to come, when I could kill him and get away with it. Finally, today, the chance came, and I took it. I killed him, and may he rot in hell!"

Prewett was not an ugly man. True, he had a weak chin, thinning hair and a feeble moustache, but his general features were quite pleasant and he was still young enough to have the freshness and vitality that goes with youth. However, now hatred had twisted his face and made him horrible to look at.

"Only you haven't got away with it, have you?" The Doctor said quietly.

"What?" Prewett snapped.

"You've confessed. You'll be tried as murderer. They'll hang you. You'll die a criminal, just like your father."

Prewett's face drained of colour, fear supplanting the hate. "Yes. But…" His voice tailed away, he looked confused and afraid.

"But what?"

"But he'll still be dead won't he? I'll have killed him and my mother and father will be avenged."

The Doctor looked sadly at Prewett. How many killers had he seen in his long life? Hundreds, maybe thousands. Some killed out of necessity, some out of madness. Some killed because they had been ordered to do so. A few killed because they were evil, through and through. Prewett didn't seem like any of these now, he didn't look like a killer at all. He looked like a sad little boy, a lost child looking for his parents.

"Is your vengeance worth the price, James?"

---

It turned out that Jago had not broken his ankle after all. In fact it seemed like it was only a light sprain, which Ace bound up using a bandana from her jacket pocket. This did not stop Jago from complaining loudly and blaming the Doctor for sending him, the rail company for not having proper lighting, and even Ace herself for shouting at him and distracting him. Ace was too tired and in too much pain herself to argue with him, although she did draw the line at supporting him as he walked.

"If you can't walk by yourself, then you'll have to stay here, alone."

"Well, I suppose I can limp along, at a pinch."

Ace had moved Jago to the doorway at the end of the carriage, where the moonlight was enough to see by. She had briefly considered going into the TARDIS to get some first aid equipment, but she wanted to get back to the Doctor with the analyser, she had already been gone far too long. Jago would have to suffer for a bit longer. Hopefully in silence.

"Come on! Let's go back. And tread carefully this time."

They managed to make their way across the car without incident, although Ace could hear Jago muttering something about light bulbs, luggage and litigation under his breath. They emerged into the corridor of the next carriage, thankful for the soft glow of the electric lamps.

"Do you know which compartment the Doctor is in?" Ace asked Jago.

"Sorry, George didn't tell me that. Anyway, I don't suppose he'd appreciate us barging in on him when he's in the middle of a tricky bit of interrogating."

Ace sighed. "You're probably right. Let's go back to the dining car and wait for him."

"Good idea! Perhaps George will be back with news about the Contessa."

"Who is this Contessa anyway?"

"Well, I haven't seen her myself, but Colonel Huntington tells me she is an American movie star who married an impoverished Italian Count so she could get his title."

"Great." Said Ace. "Sounds just like my sort of woman."

---

The mummy was within sight of the train now. During its journey it had spent some time formulating a strategy. Secondary processing units, dormant for thousands of years, had been reactivated and assigned to the task of identifying the strengths and weaknesses of its opponents. One advantage these humans had was their speed. The mummy had been configured for heavy lifting, moving huge blocks of stone, digging out vast pits from the shifting desert sands. It had now restructured itself for maximum speed and agility, although this meant a substantial reduction in strength.

It had found a weakness in the humans too: they needed light to see by. If it could remove the light they would easier to defeat. They could not protect the Doctor if they could not see what was coming.

The mummy was 20 feet away from the end of the train now. With a final burst of speed it leapt forwards and upwards in a carefully calculated arc, landing gracefully on the roof of the train. It immediately scanned the surrounding area and noted with satisfaction that there were no more tunnels within range of its sensors. The energy source for the electrical system on the train was in the front of the vehicle, where the primitive engines converted fossil fuel into steam to drive the pistons, and turn the dynamo which generated the electricity. The mummy set off across the top of the train, running lightly and easily, making barely a sound, despite its weight. When it got to the front of the train it planned to disable the electrical system, and it also had another plan in mind, which would give it a further advantage over the humans…

---

Litefoot had been bound, hand and foot, and then tied to a chair. A gag had been placed in his mouth, but the gun pointing towards him was enough to insure his silence. His captor stood back to admire his work. He was a Chinese man, dressed snappily in the latest American fashion, his hair slicked back and his shoes shined. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.

"Not a bad effort, if I do say myself." He spoke with a perfect English accent. "What's the matter, professor? You surprise me no talkee Chinee?" He laughed at Litefoot. "You don't recognise me, do you?" He walked around the chair, clearly enjoying having a captive audience. "Still, it's been a long time, hasn't it? And I suppose we all look the same to you."

He sat down on the other chair in the room, facing Litefoot, resting the gun on his lap. He smiled as he looked at Litefoot.

"We've both come a long way since the House of the Dragon, haven't we?"

Litefoot's eyes widened when he heard this.

"Ah! Comprehension begins. Shall I fill in the gaps for you? My name is Zhang Heng-wei, although my American friends call me Tommy Zhang. I was born into a peasant family in China, over sixty years ago. I fell in with the Tong of the Black Scorpion and went to England in 1887 to serve my god, Weng-Chiang. I was there in the House of the Dragon when Greel's little killing machine went berserk and shot us all down with the Eye of the Dragon. Those who survived fled, leaving the bodies of the fallen. I was hit and wounded, but not killed. I fell unconscious, but I was alive when Greel's machinery exploded and I too received the gift of eternal life."

Litefoot tried to speak, but the gag turned whatever he was saying into muffled nonsense.

"Please, professor, let me finish. I've waited a long time to tell you this story. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I survived. I was alive, and I hated Greel for destroying my vision of the great Weng-Chiang, and I hated you and Jago and that meddling Doctor for your part in the whole affair. I swore that I would revenge myself upon you. I made an oath that I would never rest until you were all dead." He lifted up the gun as he said this, and pointed it at Litefoot's head. Litefoot started to struggle in the chair, and cried out as loud as he could through the gag.

Heng-wei laughed again, and lowered the gun. "Don't worry, Professor. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since then. I spent a great deal of effort in working out what had happened to me, and I educated myself so that I could understand it all. I made new friends, and I found a new life for myself in America. I discovered new gods to worship. Beauty. Power. Wealth. I am happy now, Professor Litefoot. One might even say I have forgiven you." He stood up and put the gun back into its holster under his jacket. "I just need to keep you out of the way for a bit, so you don't mess things up." He moved towards the compartment door, then stopped suddenly. There were voices outside, in the corridor. He drew his gun again, putting his finger to lips to tell Litefoot to stay quiet. He listened at the door and could hear a woman's voice:

"…he's down here? I thought I heard something from this room."

The door slid back to reveal Ace and Jago. Heng-wei had his gun levelled at them. "Well," he said, "looks like the gang's all here. Do come in, there's plenty of room for you all." He waved them into the room with the gun. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure." He was talking to Ace.

"The pleasure's all yours, believe me."

"Just lie down on the floor will you, whilst I tie you up." He grinned at Ace. "You know, under other circumstances this could be quite fun."

Ace rolled her eyes. "Perhaps if you tied the rope round your neck, then jumped out of the window?" She suggested helpfully.

"I'll take that under advisement. Now, on the floor please. And put that box down on the bed." He indicated the blood analyser.

With a sigh Ace dropped the analyser on the bed, then lowered herself down onto the floor, wincing from the pain in her chest and ribs. "Not too tight round the middle, alright? I'm feeling a little tender."

"You know kid, I like you. Look me up next time you're in Hollywood."

Ace was about to come back with a devastating retort, when the lights went out. She dived blindly towards Heng-wei, hoping to catch him before he knew what was happening. Pain surged through her as her damaged body collided with his. She grappled with him for control of the gun, and in the process it went off twice. The first shot went through the window and shattered the glass. But the second hit something else, and for a second Ace couldn't work out what it was. Then she felt something trickle down the side of her head. She let go of Heng-wei and put her hand up to touch her scalp, and it came away sticky. As she fell to the floor with a dull thud she realised she had been shot. A cold wave of blackness swept over her and she was carried away by it into a dark sea of oblivion.


	8. Chapter 8

The Doctor's eyes adjusted quickly to the near-darkness. Just enough light was coming in through the window for him to see Prewett's slightly nervous look as he fumbled with the compartment door. The Doctor took his small penlight from his pocket and shone the beam on the door, so that Prewett could see what he was doing.

"Let's continue on to the dining car, there will be more people there, and I noticed some oil lamps on the tables." The Doctor suggested to Prewett. "We can wait there until they sort the electricity problems out."

"Very well, Doctor."

Prewett slid the door open and the two of them went out into the corridor and walked towards the dining car. He didn't say anything on the short journey, and the Doctor thought he looked drained and slightly pale, almost as though he had gone into shock.

When they reached the dining car they found it quite brightly lit. Anton had gone round adjusting the oil lamps, giving them more wick so that they burned a little more brightly. He was just finishing the last one when they arrived.

"Ah, Monsieur le Doctor, Monsieur Prewett, I am glad you found your way here, you will be more comfortable until the lights come back on. Can I get you a drink?" He headed back towards the bar. Colonel Huntington was sitting at the bar, he raised his glass towards the Doctor when he saw him.

"Yes, have a drink Doctor, unless you've had therapy for that as well?" The Colonel was clearly well on his way to being hopelessly drunk.

"Not whilst I'm working." Said the Doctor. "But I think Mr. Prewett could do with a nice strong cup of tea." A sudden memory flashed into the Doctor's mind, of Sergeant Benton bringing him a battered tin mug full of enamel-removingly strong tea, deliciously hot in the cold lab, and sweet with about seventeen sugars. He was working on some complicated piece of machinery, he couldn't remember if it was part of the TARDIS, or if it was a detection device for the latest alien menace which had rather foolishly decided to invade his favourite speck of rock. The Doctor almost smiled, then remembered that he had work to do.

"Anton, I need to speak to the Contessa, can you please search the train for her and bring her here."

"No need for that, I'm here already." A sultry voice declared from the other end of the car. The Doctor turned to see a tall, slender figure standing in the doorway. The Contessa was a beautiful woman, looking impeccable in a simple black dress. Her also-black hair was cut into a bob which framed her perfectly made-up face.

The Doctor left Prewett in Anton's care and walked down the car to meet the Contessa. She had already sat down at one of the tables when he reached her. She had taken a cigarette holder from her small purse, and was fixing a cigarette into it. At first glance she looked to be in her late twenties, but as he drew nearer he could see a few tell-tale signs that she was in fact a little older: a fine tracery of lines around her eyes, a looseness in the skin of her neck, a certain dullness of complexion. Nothing major, and nothing to detract from her elegance and poise.

"Very pleased to meet you, Contessa." Said the Doctor, and she offered up a gloved hand to him. He took her hand in one of his own, and bent down low to kiss the back of it. "_Soleasi nel mio cor star bella et viva, com'alta donna in loco humile et basso_." He told here, holding her hand, and her gaze, for a fraction longer than was strictly necessary.

"I hope that's a compliment, it certainly sounds like one. However, I am afraid to say that I am Italian in name only."

Her accent was American, but he found it hard to place the exact location, perhaps a hint of New York? There was also more than a trace of an English sound to her voice, as if she had deliberately cultivated an international accent.

"It's from a poem by Petrarch, it means 'She ruled in beauty over this heart of mine, a noble lady in a humble home.' You don't speak Italian?"

"No, in fact, I've never even been to Italy. Poor Alessandro left there virtually penniless, and in disgrace, he had no desire to return. Of course he's very ill now, far too ill to travel, so I suppose he'll never see his country again, even if he wanted to. Do sit down."

The Doctor sat down at the table, facing her. "You've left him at home then? He's a trusting man to let such a beautiful woman out of his sight."

"Now, I'm not sure if _that's_ a compliment or an insult. Possibly both?" She looked at him quizzically, with the hint of a smile on her lips. "Anyway, Alessandro trusts me completely, I have a great deal of freedom. And as I said, he is _very_ ill…" She gave him an evaluating stare, as if trying to decide something. "This is all getting very personal, and we haven't even been introduced."

"Well, we must remedy that immediately. I am the Doctor, and I'm investigating the murder of the Sultan of Rajmanali."

The Contessa raised an eyebrow. "Murder?" She lifted the cigarette holder towards her mouth and her eyes momentarily flicked towards the end of the cigarette.

The Doctor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter. He thumbed the button and the flame flared up. As he lit her cigarette he said, "I'm afraid so. I've spoken to nearly everyone on the train. You're next on my list."

"Well, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"That's very cooperative of you."

"I try to be accommodating." She blew out a thin cloud of smoke and smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. "Let's get started, shall we?"

- - -

Ace floated peacefully along the river, submerged so that only her face was above the waterline. The sun shone down on her and warmed her, and although she could not see the river banks, she was aware of a green blur to the left and right. Occasionally the branches of a tree slid into her line of vision, momentarily obscuring her view of the endless blue sky, dappling her with playful shadows. Her ears were underwater and she could hear only muffled sounds, perhaps birdcalls, and the sound of drums in the distance. She tried to move her arms and legs, but nothing happened, there was no sensation of movement. In fact, she wasn't even sure she had a body any more. Perhaps she was only a face, floating in the water, warm and peaceful and quiet. Except for the birdcalls, which seemed to be getting louder, and the sound of the drums, which were no longer in the distance, but were coming nearer and nearer. So near, in fact, that they seemed to be coming from inside her own head. Ba Doom. Ba Da Doom. Ba Doom. They echoed around, merging into one continuous thumping beat. Ba DOOM! Ba DOOM! The birds called out to her, screeching. The sky darkened and the sun became the moon. The moon had a man's face, a kindly face looking down at her, smiling. The face looked like someone she knew… An old man with white hair and a moustache and… Litefoot!

Ace sat up suddenly, and her head exploded with a blast of exquisite pain. The vision before her resolved itself into the train compartment, with Litefoot looking on and Jago behind him, holding an old-fashioned oil lamp. She was on the bed, and she felt dizzy and nauseous.

"There now, just lie back." He pushed her shoulders gently and she allowed herself to be guided back onto the soft bed. "You've got a nasty cut on the head, but you should be alright with a little rest."

"What happened?" Asked Ace, wincing as more pain coursed through her skull.

"Ah, well… I'm afraid there was a little accident." Jago smiled nervously at her. "I saw you struggling with that Chinese chappy, and then the gun went off. I grabbed the nearest thing I could get my hands on and tried to knock him round the head, just as the gun went off again."

"It seems that in, the darkness and confusion, Henry missed our friend Heng-wei and hit you instead."

"Sorry about that. I was trying to help." Jago looked so embarrassed that Ace almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Ace frowned, trying to pull her scattered thoughts together. "So what happened to Heng-wei?"

Litefoot looked upset. "He's over there, on the floor. That second shot hit him in the stomach, he's in a bad way."

"He'll be alright though, won't he?" Ace tried to sit up again, but Litefoot stopped her.

"There's nothing we can do for him now. And we took his gun away. You just rest."

"I haven't got time to rest. I must get to the Doctor and give him that machine."

"Oh dear!" Said Jago, looking worried.

"What now?" Ace asked, a cold feeling settling in her guts.

"Well, the thing I grabbed…"

"Don't tell me. It was the Doctor's analyser, wasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. It took quite a knock. Bits everywhere."

"You know what?" Said Ace, looking at Litefoot.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I'm really not having a very good day." And she closed her eyes again, just to rest them for a while...

- - -

"I have two questions for you, Contessa."

"Fire away."

"First, what were you doing last night, when the Sultan was murdered. Second, why are you on this train at all?"

"You don't waste much time, do you?"

"Time is a very precious resource, and it has a habit of running out a lot faster than you expect."

The Contessa smiled sardonically, as if the Doctor had made a particularly ironic joke. "How very true, Doctor. Let me see if I can give you some satisfactory answers." She paused a moment to apply her lips to the end of cigarette holder. "I was in my room all night." She blew out the smoke to one side, her mouth forming a small o shape. "You can check with my man, Tommy."

"Your man?"

"My… personal assistant."

"Ah. Well, perhaps I will speak to him after I'm done with you."

"Be my guest."

"And why are you here on this train? Did you receive a mysterious invitation too?"

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to one side, lips pursed, as if trying to decide exactly what to make of the strange specimen in front of her.

"No, I did not. I was the one who sent out those invitations."

The Doctor's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised.

"So you hired this train? It was you who brought all these people together?"

"Yes and yes. That's another two questions, Doctor. You started out so well. I like a man who knows what he wants, I hope you're not going to disappoint me now?"

"I'll try not to, I hate to let a lady down. Just one more question then, if you answer that then I think I'll have all the information I need."

"I'm all ears."

"Why?"

"Why did I invite all these guests at such great expense?"

"Yes."

"It's simple really. They all have something of interest to me, or at least they showed some promise. You see, Doctor, I've chosen a very unforgiving profession for myself. The movie business places a high value on beauty and youth. I may still be beautiful, but I'm not getting any younger."

"I think I'm beginning to see where this is going. But surely you don't need to work any more? You must be a rich woman if you can afford to hire the Orient Express for your personal use."

"Oh, I'm richer than Croesus. I made a small fortune from my movies, and my first husband was a financier with an interest in producing films. He invested wisely and my small fortune became a very large one. But it's not about money, Doctor. There's only so much you can buy with money. What I want is to be the leading lady for a while longer. I want the fame and the adoration that goes with that. And for that I need to be young."

"And you think that someone on this train can help you attain that?"

"You've talked to them, Doctor. If you're any good as an investigator you must have found out something about their unusual qualities."

"I have indeed, although I have to tell you that you won't find what you're looking for. It would not be possible for you to replicate the conditions that led to Jago and Litefoot's longevity and Colonel Huntington's apparent agelessness, and Crowley's potion is nothing but a dangerous fake."

The Contessa frowned, a dark expression clouding her beautiful features. "I'm afraid you're right, Doctor. It looks as though I've wasted my money, and more of my valuable time."

The Doctor frowned too, as if he had just thought of something disturbing. "Well, I think I have everything I need now." He turned in his seat and gestured to Anton. "Please find Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago and ask them to come here, and see if you can find Ace."

"Very good sir, what reason shall I give them?"

"Tell them I know who killed the Sultan, and that I will be reveal the murderer as soon as everyone is here."

- - -

Ace opened her eyes to find that Litefoot had moved away. She must have drifted off for a moment. Still, she felt a lot better now, the pain in her head was now just a throbbing dull ache. She sat up, carefully, and looked around the compartment. Litefoot and Jago were on the other side of the small room. Litefoot was kneeling over the slumped form of Heng-wei, whilst Jago stood nearby, holding the lamp. Heng-wei looked pale and his skin had a waxy sheen to it. He seemed to be staring off into the distance. He wasn't moving. As Ace watched Litefoot shook his head, then reached out to close Heng-wei's eyes.

"He's gone. There was nothing I could do."

He stood up and went over to the small bathroom to wash the blood off his hands.

"Terrible business. Terrible." Jago looked nearly as pale as Heng-wei. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.

Litefoot didn't say anything, but when he turned round there was a grim expression on his face. Then he caught sight of Ace, and he forced a smile.

"Ah, you're awake again, my dear. That's good. How do you feel?" He moved towards her, looking concerned.

Ace was still looking at Heng-wei. She felt sick.

"Is he dead?"

Litefoot sat next to her on the bed and lifted her wrist to take her pulse.

"I'm afraid so."

"Was he… Did he suffer?" Ace's voice was very quiet.

Litefoot paused before answering. "A stomach wound is always painful. I did what I could to make him comfortable."

Jago came over to where Ace was lying and stood next to the top of the bed, a surprisingly tender expression on his face.

"He won't suffer any more. He's beyond that now."

Ace led back on the bed. The pain in her skull had returned with full force. Her emotions whirled round inside her head, and the room seemed to spin around outside it. She was horribly confused and she felt like crying, screaming, or possibly puking. As she turned to speak to Jago her body suddenly decided to go for the latter option and she leant over the edge of the bed and threw up all over his shoes.

- - -

The mummy was nearly finished. Its hands were attached to the terminals of the primitive dynamo, and electrical energy flowed into it, recharging its powerful internal capacitors. Bright sparks of lightning flashed over its body and its bandages were charred and smouldering. Soon it would be ready. Soon it could complete its mission and the Doctor would die. The mummy's memory circuits were fully working now. It knew who its master was, and it knew that the Doctor's death would only be the start of an endless reign of terror. This planet would surely be crushed and broken, and its remains would drift eternally in space as a testament to the fate of all who dare to stand in the way of the great destroyer!


	9. Chapter 9

Litefoot was fussing over Ace, whilst Jago was busy cleaning his shoes. He was trying to appear unconcerned, so as not to embarrass Ace, but he couldn't help making a slight grimace as he wiped off the final remains.

"Sorry about that." Said Ace, not looking that sorry at all. Strangely she felt a lot better after being sick, but she was still avoiding looking at the slumped form on the other side of the room.

"Nothing to worry about!" Jago told her, a somewhat forced smile appearing on his face. "My fault really, for fetching you such a wallop on the noggin. Always a bit bothersome, getting a bash on the bonce, what?"

Ace smiled weakly, despite herself. Jago wasn't so bad really, his heart was in the right place. Shame about the blood analyser, but the Doctor would manage without it, he was good at improvising.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at it in surprise.

"Who's there?" Asked Litefoot as he stood up, trying to sound unperturbed. Ace noticed that this hand had gone to his jacket pocket. He was pulling out a gun, presumably the one they had taken from Heng-wei.

"It is Anton, professor. I have a message from the Doctor."

Litefoot relaxed and put the gun back into his pocket. He hurried over to the door and unlocked it. Anton was standing in the doorway, holding an oil lamp. His nose wrinkled as the smell of vomit reached him, then he stepped back slightly, his eyes widening, as he caught sight of Heng-wei's motionless body.

"Mon dieu! What has happened?" He looked at Litefoot, with some fear in his eyes.

"I think we've found the killer, Anton. This is the Contessa's man, Heng-wei. He took me hostage and was about to do the same to Jago and young miss Ace here."

Ace wasn't too happy about being described as a "young miss", but she decided to let it pass, mainly because she was still feeling pretty grotty.

"How was he killed?"

"The lights went out, and there was a struggle. He was shot by accident. I did what I could for him, but his wound was too severe. Miss Ace was also injured, but she is recovering well."

Anton looked around the compartment, then turned to Ace. "Do you know where Frederique is, Miss? I assumed he was still with you."

Ace felt her stomach turn over again. She had forgotten all about poor Freddy. "He's dead too. I'm sorry." She trailed away weakly.

"Dead? But how? Was it him?" He nodded towards Heng-wei.

"No, it was something else. I can't tell you now, it's too complicated. The Doctor will explain it all." Ace felt guilty about not telling the others the whole truth, but she doubted they would believe her.

Anton shook his head, looking dismayed. This was all going wrong. Three deaths on his train! What would the company say? He stood there in silence for a moment, feeling slightly numb. Then he remembered why he had come here.

"The Doctor says he knows who the killer is, and he will reveal it when we are all present in the dining car."

"Well, we'd better get there straight away. Perhaps he already knows about Heng-wei, although it seems unlikely. I hope this doesn't upset his theory."

"Perhaps we can crack the case for him!" Said Jago, looking pleased at the thought, but Litefoot didn't seem very enthusiastic.

"I have a feeling it won't be as simple as that, Henry. It never seems to be when a Doctor is involved."

Jago's face fell. "That's true, George. That's very true."

Litefoot helped Ace to her feet and the four of them left the compartment, taking the lamps and closing the door behind them. The room was filled with darkness now, only a weak beam of moonlight coming through the broken window pane, interrupted now and then as the train rushed passed a tree that grew next to the track. Heng-wei's still form was pale and ghostly, his eyes closed, his hands on the floor next to his legs. A stain of blood, looking black in the dim light, had spread over the front of his white shirt. All was quiet, except for the constant background noise of the engine puffing away, and the sound of the wheels clattering on the tracks.

Suddenly Heng-wei's eyes snapped open, and he drew in a deep, rattling breath. Where was he? What was happening? He remembered a sharp, searing pain in his gut. He had clutched his hands there, trying to hold himself together. He had felt a hole and there had been blood, lots of his blood, leaking out. Then the pain had gone away, and everything went white. A blinding white light, filling his mind. He had heard whispering voices, calling to him. His ancestors, perhaps, waiting for him to cross over? But then the blackness took him and the voices had died away.

He brought his right hand up to his stomach, exploring the wound again. It didn't seem so bad now, it was almost closed up, the flow of blood had stopped. His body was repairing itself. The strange force that kept him young, that kept back the unceasing flow of time, was keeping death at bay as well. He laughed then, a coughing, choking laugh. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin. He had seen his god, Weng-Chiang, struck down and killed. Now he, Zhang Heng-wei, had been struck down, but he had not been killed, he had been reborn instead. He was the god now, immortal, all-powerful! He rose to his feet, ignoring the pain that screamed inside him, stretched his arms out wide, threw back his head and laughed and laughed.

- - -

The Doctor was pacing back and forth in front of the bar. The Contessa, Colonel Huntington and Prewett were sat at separate tables, all facing the Doctor.

"Must we wait for the others, Doctor?" Asked Colonel Huntington, impatiently. "Can't you tell us your findings now?"

"I'd rather wait until we are all here. That way I… Ah! Here they are now." The Doctor stopped in mid-pace and turned to face the door at the other end of the carriage. Litefoot, Jago, Anton and Ace were coming through it. Ace looked a little unsteady on her feet and Litefoot was hovering behind her, seemingly ready to catch her. The Doctor frowned and moved quickly down the dining car.

"What have you been up to then?" He asked as he examined Ace. The wound on her scalp had stopped bleeding now and Litefoot had cleaned off most of the blood and vomit from her face, but she still looked a sorry sight. She was covered in soot from the train roof, her backpack was hanging in shreds behind her, she was hunched over due to the pain in her chest where the mummy had hit her, and she looked pale and shaky, probably from shock.

"I got attacked by a mummy."

"A mummy?"

"Yeah, it was well wicked. All we need now is Frankenstein and the Wolfman and we can make a Hammer Horror film." Ace made her very best attempt at a cheeky grin, but she could tell the Doctor wasn't buying it. In fact, he looked even more worried than he did before.

"This could be more serious than I thought."

Ace pulled the Doctor to one side and whispered in his ear, "Doctor, it killed Freddy, the porter you sent with me. Strangled him, I think."

The Doctor looked both angry and sad. "There's nothing we can do for him now. The best thing we can do is sort this mess out as quickly as possible and then leave before we corrupt the time lines any further."

As they went back to where the others were standing they could see Jago was waiting to tell them something.

"We've got some information for you, Doctor." He said, looking pleased. "Tell him, George."

"I don't know how much bearing this has on the case, but I was taken hostage by the Contessa's manservant." Lightfoot kept his voice low, so that his fellow travellers sitting down the other end of the carriage couldn't hear what he was saying.

"That would be Tommy?"

"By Jove, Doctor! You don't miss much, do you? Yes, I think he said that was what he was calling himself nowadays. His Chinese name is Heng-wei. Doctor, he was one of the Tong who worked for Greel. He survived the massacre at the House of the Dragon, and he was exposed to the same energies that affected Henry and myself."

"Why did he take you hostage?"

"He said he wanted to keep us out of the way, so we didn't mess things up."

The Doctor turned to look at the Contessa, who was leaning across the aisle to get a light for her cigarette from Colonel Huntington.

"Yes, that all fits in with the information I've gathered." He turned back to Ace. "But I'm not so sure about your mummy."

"What's all his about a mummy?" Said Jago, looked perplexed. "You don't mean one of those dead Egyptian chaps, do you?"

"Sorry, I didn't have time to tell you before. And it didn't seem that dead to me." Ace couldn't suppress a little shudder at the thought of the creature shambling towards her in the darkness.

"What happened to it? And where is Tommy?" Asked the Doctor.

"The mummy fell off the roof of the train, it will be miles behind us now."

"And Tommy?" The Doctor didn't bother to ask how the mummy got up on the roof in the first place, there would be time enough for the full story later on, when they were safely back in the TARDIS.

Ace looked towards Litefoot.

"He was shot by accident, Doctor." Litefoot told him. "He didn't survive, we left his body back in the compartment."

The Doctor thought for a moment, the question mark handle of his umbrella resting on his chin.

"I think we'd better keep this to ourselves, for the moment. It's time for me to reveal what I've discovered."

"So you don't need that gadget of yours then?" Jago asked, apprehensively.

"Gadget? Oh, you mean the blood analyser? No, I don't think that will be necessary any more." Jago looked relieved and Ace rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Now why don't you four sit down with the others?" And saying that he turned on his heels and strode purposefully back towards the bar.

"Well I never!" Said Litefoot. "Looks like he's got it all worked out."

"Let's find out shall we?" Ace prompted him. "We should get to the front before all the good seats go."

- - -

Heng-wei had stopped laughing. It was time for action now, time to exact revenge and show them all who the new boss was. He hadn't formed a coherent plan, but he knew that appearances were everything. He couldn't reveal himself to his would-be killers looking like this, he needed to make an impression. He went back to his compartment and opened his suitcase. He tossed aside the clean white shirts and his carefully pressed spare suit. What he wanted was underneath all that, wrapped in tissue paper. He peeled the paper open and lovingly unfolded a black silk suit with a Mandarin collar and a row of buttons down the front made from intricately knotted strings. The sleeves and legs were wide and loose, allowing ease of movement.

He laid the black suit carefully on the bed, then pulled out a small pocket knife and used it to prise open the bottom of the suitcase. Underneath, in a narrow secret compartment, was a gun, some ammunition, and most importantly, his hatchet: a final remainder from his days in the Tong of the Black Scorpion. He held this in his hand for a few moments, feeling the balance, then put it to one side and began to undress. His body still felt pain, but his mind was beyond that now, beyond all mortal emotions. As far as he was concerned he had achieved apotheosis, and no one would stand in his way ever again.


	10. Chapter 10

"I've called you all here because I have completed my investigation into the death of the Sultan." The Doctor was standing in front of the bar again, his hands clasped behind his back. His umbrella rested against a bar stool. The other travellers were facing him, looking expectant and, in some cases, nervous. Crowley had been sent for and had dragged himself along to join them. He sat in a chair and lolled against the wall, looking glassy-eyed. Anton was standing in the aisle at the back, hands at his sides. The Doctor had decided not to tell them about the other two deaths for the time being. 

"I will attempt to reconstruct the Sultan's final hours, using the information I have gathered from you all this evening. I must ask you not to interrupt me until I am finished, then I will be happy to answer questions, if you have any."

He began to pace up and down again, become more animated as he spoke.

"Yesterday evening the Sultan was playing backgammon with Colonel Huntington. Both of them were drinking and the Colonel lost a substantial sum of money."

The Colonel stood up, looking indignant. He was swaying slightly. "That doesn't mean I killed him!"

"Sit down!" The Doctor barked at him in a commanding tone, causing the Colonel to drop back into his seat. "I haven't accused you of anything, I am simply relating the facts as I understand them. Now please, let me finish."

The Colonel looked a little embarrassed, but covered it up by taking another gulp of whisky.

"Professor Litefoot and Mr. Jago were dining in here at the same time. The Contessa was in her compartment, as were Mr. Prewett and Mr. Crowley. Litefoot and Jago left sometime after eleven o'clock. When the backgammon ended the Colonel went back to his compartment, but the Sultan went to see Crowley."

The travellers all turned to look at Crowley, who waved a hand at them, a sneer on his face.

"Crowley sold the Sultan one of his magic potions, his so-called elixir. The Sultan went back to his room and went to sleep. After he woke up this morning, just before midday, he took this potion and presumably disposed of the bottle, probably out of the window. At noon Anton knocked at the Sultan's door, he was bringing him a tray of food, but the only reply he received was a grunt. Anton thought the Sultan was still asleep; he was, after all, a notorious late-riser."

The Doctor paused for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts. He moved next to the table where Prewett was sitting, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"At four o'clock Mr. Prewett here entered the Sultan's compartment via the connecting door between their two rooms. He took the Sultan's letter opener and stabbed him through the heart. He told the Sultan to 'Go to Hell', and this was heard by Anton who was outside the door with another tray."

There were a few sharp intakes of breath as the news of Prewett's crime was revealed.

"So it was Prewett who murdered the Sultan?" Said the Colonel. "Would've of thought he had it in him! But why did you do it, old chap? Was it for the money?"

Prewett was as white as a sheet. Ace thought he might be sick, and checked to see if Jago was within chucking-up distance. Before Prewett could say anything the Doctor started talking again.

"Ah, well now, although Prewett stabbed the Sultan, he didn't murder him. You see the Sultan was already dead when he came through the door, isn't that right, James?"

Prewett turned to the Doctor, a desperate look on his face. "Yes, Doctor. I came through to ask him to sign some papers, and he was just lying there, staring at the ceiling, cold and stiff. At first I was shocked, and I just stood there, stunned. Then I became angry. I realised I'd lost my chance for revenge. I'd waited and waited to drum up the courage to kill him, but I couldn't do it. He'd taken everything from me, now he'd robbed me of this as well. Before I knew what was happening I picked up his letter opener and stuck it into his black, empty heart. But I was too late, too late!"

"But what had he done to you, why did you want revenge on him?" The Colonel asked, more gently this time.

Prewett stood up in a rage, knocking over his chair. "He killed my father!" He stood there for a few moments, quivering with anger, then all the energy seemed to drain from him and he went to sit down again, but the chair wasn't there and he fell back as he fumbled for it, ending up sitting on the floor in a daze. "My mother…" He whispered faintly, so that only the Doctor could hear him as he lifted Prewett up and helped him onto another chair.

Ace felt a surge of emotion run through her as she looked at Prewett. Seeing another human being in such a pitiful state somehow made her feel worse than all the physical blows she had suffered today. An image of Heng-wei, lying dead against the wall, came unbidden into her mind. She suddenly felt tears prickling up in her eyes, hot and stinging. She clenched her fists and beat back the tears with angry thoughts. "What's the matter with you?" She admonished herself. "You're stronger than this." But she wasn't really that strong, and she wasn't even sure she wanted to be.

"But why did the Sultan die then, Doctor?" Litefoot was asking, bringing Ace out of her reverie.

"It was the potion, the one he got from Crowley. It was supposed to prolong his life, but instead it killed him."

"Crowley poisoned him?"

"No intentionally. When I questioned Mr. Crowley he was kind enough to tell me the recipe for his elixir. Amongst other things, it contained peanut oil. I deduce that the Sultan was allergic to peanuts. He died from anaphylactic shock. The sound that Anton heard through the door as he waited with the tray was the Sultan's death rattle."

"Good Lord!" Said the Colonel.

"C'est fantastique!" Said Anton

"He died from a Peanut?" Asked Ace.

The Doctor waited for his audience to quieten down before he continued. "And now we come to the difficult part."

"I don't understand, Doctor. Surely this is all some unfortunate accident?" The Contessa was giving the Doctor a hard stare as she said this.

"The Sultan's death was an accident. However, after he died, but before Anton discovered the body, someone cut off one of the Sultan's fingers. How do we explain that?"

"Why would someone cut one of his fingers off?" Asked Ace.

"That's a very good question." Replied the Doctor. "Perhaps the Contessa can answer it for you?"

All eyes turned to look at the Contessa, who arched an eyebrow and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Why would I know anything about the Sultan's missing finger?"

"Let me explain my reasoning. It was you who chartered this special service, and invited everyone here to join you."

The was a buzz of whispered conversation when the others heard this, but the Doctor held up a hand for silence.

"You brought them here because they all have, or claim to have, something which you desire greatly – the secret to eternal youth!"

"All of us?" Asked the Colonel, incredulously.

"I say, Doctor!" Cried Litefoot, looking alarmed.

"Not exactly youth, what? More like eternal middle-age!" Jago said, smiling and patting his stomach.

The Doctor held up both hands this time.

"Please! Gentlemen, let me finish." He gestured towards Crowley. "We all know about Mr. Crowley's elixir, for what it's worth."

The Doctor turned towards the Colonel. "The Colonel here has been blessed with an unaging body, he is immune to disease, and has apparently endless good health."

The Colonel smiled darkly. "Some blessing."

"Professor Litefoot and Mr Jago have had their aging process slowed to an almost imperceptible rate. Not quite as effective as a new body, but if the process were to happen when the recipient was still relatively young it would be a good second prize."

He went over to where Prewett was sitting with his head in his hands. "But why did the Sultan get an invitation? Perhaps it's something to do with Mr. Prewett? The Contessa would know that the Sultan always travels with his personal assistant."

Prewett looked up, slowly. "What have I got that anyone could possibly want?"

The Doctor smiled sadly at him, then turned to the others. "Well, if it wasn't Mr. Prewett, then it must have been the Sultan who had something of value to the Contessa." He whirled round, quick as lightning, and stepped towards the Contessa's table. "Something that he wore on his finger, perhaps? Something that couldn't be removed because the Sultan's fingers had clenched up as he died, and then rigor mortis set in."

The Contessa carefully placed her cigarette holder on the table, the burning cigarette resting on the ashtray. Then she clapped her hands together delicately, without smiling, her eyes cold and hard.

"Bravo, Doctor! You really are too clever."

She reached towards her small purse, which was also lying on the table. She opened it and pulled out a large gold ring in the shape of a scarab beetle, a green gem set into its back. She placed it on the ring finger of her left hand, holding her hand out with the back towards her so that she could admire it. The gem lit up from within for a moment, as if some strange power had been activated, and a green glow illuminated the Contessa's face then faded slowly away.

"This is what I wanted from the Sultan. But pretty though it is, it will lead me to an even greater treasure. Isn't that right, Tommy?"

She turned to look at the other end of the dining car, and the others turned too. At the end of the carriage Heng-wei was standing, looking gloriously sinister in his black suit. His hatchet hung from a loop in his belt. There was a mad, dangerous light in his eyes. There was also a gun in his hand, aimed straight at the Doctor.

"That is correct, my love. Just as I have stolen the powers of a god, so shall you. You will become a goddess and you will live forever as my queen!"

The he smiled - a ghastly rictus. His pale skin and dark, sunken eyes made a terrible death mask.

"But first it is time for these mortals to die!" And so saying he brought his gun up to fire at the Doctor.

Several things happened at once: Ace leapt forwards to push the Doctor out of the way; Colonel Huntington jumped to his feet, drawing his gun from his pocket; Crowley disappeared under his table, and began crawling towards the door; and the window next to Prewett exploded in a shower of glass shards as the mummy swung itself through from outside, landing on the table then springing off towards the Doctor, hands reaching for this throat.

Heng-wei fired, just as Ace rugby-tackled the Doctor to the floor. The bullet thudded into the mummy, knocking it out of the air and sending it flying back into the bar. The Colonel fired too, hitting Heng-wei in his gun hand. Heng-wei dropped the gun with a cry, his face twisted in pain and rage.

The mummy jumped to its feet almost immediately, seemingly unaffected by the bullet. It began moving towards the Doctor again, arms outstretched, when Prewett hit it from behind with a chair. The chair smashed to pieces across the mummy's broad shoulders, but it didn't fall down. Instead it turned towards Prewett and grabbed his neck with both its hands. Suddenly Prewett started convulsing, bright sparks of electrical energy coruscating down the mummy's arms and over his body. Smoke began rising from the skin around his neck as it blistered and charred under the mummy's grasp. The mummy held on, pouring out the power it had stored within it, despite the Colonel desperately firing at it, emptying his gun into the creature's body.

"Stop!"

The Contessa was holding her fist out, the ring pointing towards the mummy. The green gem was pulsing with light now and emitting a high-pitched beeping tone. The mummy dropped Prewett to the floor, where he lay, unmoving, and turned to face the Contessa. It stood silently staring at her for a moment, then bowed its head, accepting her command.

The Contessa had a small silver gun in her right hand. She gestured towards Ace, who was still lying on the floor, looking at Prewett's smoking body with horror.

"Get up." The Contessa told Ace. "You're coming with me."

"Where are you taking her?" Demanded the Doctor, standing up and helping Ace to her feet.

"I need her for the next part of my plan. Don't worry, she won't be hurt. She can spare a few years."

The Doctor was glaring at the Contessa, jaws clenched with anger. But there was nothing he could do for the moment. The Contessa had her gun, and more importantly, she had control of the mummy.

"Tommy, grab your gun and keep an eye on these gentlemen. If they give you any trouble, you know what to do."

Heng-wei picked up his gun from the floor, holding it in his good hand. The bleeding from the bullet wound had already stopped, he noticed with satisfaction.

"Why can't I just kill them now?" He asked the Contessa, like a child asking for sweets.

"No! I don't want any more killing." She turned to the Doctor as she led Ace away. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I just wanted it to keep you out of the way, I didn't know it would kill anyone."

"You're playing with things you don't understand. Whatever it is you plan to do with Ace, please stop it now, before it's too late."

"Oh, I understand exactly what I'm doing. It's all there, in Scarman's papers."

"Scarman?" The Doctor's blood went cold. "So that's were the Sultan's relics game from. The Scarman expedition. I thought it must have some connection. Please, Contessa, end this now. It can only lead to the most terrible consequences."

"Terrible?" Hend-wei took a step towards him, still brandishing the gun. "No, Doctor, you are wrong! We already had Scarman's journal. Now we have the command words - I stole the tablet from the luggage car yesterday evening, and we translated the hieroglyphs using Scarman's notes. We have the control ring from the Sultan, and we were able to activate it. Everything is going precisely as we planned it."

"But it's not, is it? Can't you see? You activated this creature without properly understanding what you were doing. You got the commands wrong! You wanted to stop me from investigating, but instead you told it to kill me." He turned to the Contessa. "It's already killed two people. Don't let anyone else get hurt. Whatever you think you're going to find, please leave it alone. It will end just as badly as this."

The Contessa looked uncertain for a moment, as if she might be wavering. She started to speak, but Heng-wei interrupted her.

"No! It will end with my beautiful queen becoming young again, like an eternally fresh blossom. We will cast off the passage of the years, and be together forever, outshining heaven itself with our glory. You see, Doctor, we have discovered the artefact that allowed the ancient Egyptian gods to hold off the cruel ravages of time. A device with which they could suck the life force from another person and use it to restore their own. All we have to do is reach out and take it, and eternity will be ours!"

"What is this device?" The Doctor spoke quietly, but Ace could hear the iron behind his words.

"The Mouth of Setesh, Doctor! We will take it and bend its power to our will. It will feed on the soul of your pretty young friend, and that energy will restore my love to her rightful throne. Go now! Take her away!"

The Contessa's face was transformed by something very like lust, it was clear that she was deeply affected by Heng-wei's words. She poked the gun at Ace and forced her to walk past the mummy and towards the door that led to the luggage car. Ace said nothing, but as she reached the door she turned around to look at the Doctor, and he could see the fear in her eyes, but there was nothing he could do to stop the Contessa from taking her away.


	11. Chapter 11

The Contessa shut the door behind her and waved the gun at Ace again. The corridor was dark except for the moonlight coming in through the windows, and the pulsing green glow of the Contessa's scarab ring.

"Keep moving." She commanded. Ace scowled at the Contessa, then began to walk down the corridor, towards the luggage car.

"Wait!" The Contessa's voice rang out. Ace stopped moving and turned round to face her.

"Make up your mind." Said Ace, trying to sound nonchalant. "Not very good at this, are you?"

The Contessa didn't reply, but instead brought the scarab ring up to her mouth. She whispered something into it, but Ace couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

"Just having a word with your friend, are you? I should be careful, if I were you. The Doctor's right, you know, that thing's a killing machine."

The Contessa smiled wickedly, and Ace had the feeling that this was what the mouse saw, just before the cat pounced.

"Just telling it to guard this door, to make sure no one tries to follow us."

"Worried that young Tommy's not up to the job? I think he's gone mental, if you ask me."

The Contessa looked angry for a moment, and perhaps a little afraid: Ace had clearly touched a nerve. Her composure returned almost immediately, however, and she ushered Ace along the corridor again.

"I won't need Tommy for this procedure. You will be able to assist me quite admirably."

Ace said nothing, and tried not to think about exactly what this 'procedure' might entail.

They continued along the corridor, and as they passed Crowley's room Ace noticed that the door was open just a crack, and she could see the glint of an eyeball as the green glow from the ring pulsed again. Crowley must have escaped in all the confusion! If the Contessa didn't notice the open door, then Crowley could pop out and surprise her after she had passed it, perhaps get the gun away from her. The train lurched slightly and Ace pretended to lose her balance, banging into the wall in an effort to distract the Contessa. It seemed to work as the Contessa snarled at Ace to keep moving, and didn't appear to notice the slightly open door.

- - -

In his compartment Crowley was crouched next to the door, one eye pressed to the narrow crack, watching the corridor. He was clutching an empty champagne bottle in one hand as a makeshift weapon. He saw Ace and the Contessa move past, and saw Ace stumble. This was it! This was his chance to prove the Doctor wrong. All he had to do was quietly open the door, sneak up behind the Contessa and hit her over the head with the champagne bottle. He would save the girl, and everyone would know what a hero he was. All he had to do was stand up, reach out, and slide the door open.

He stood up, his hand reached towards the door. He felt as thought his insides had turned to ice. He felt sick with fear. He grabbed hold of the door handle. He paused for a moment, struggling with his conscience, then carefully slid the door shut, and turned the key in the lock. He let the bottle fall to the floor, then turned slowly round and climbed onto the bed, leant back against the cushions and brought his knees up to his chest. He hugged his knees with his arms, and began to rock himself slowly, back and forth. His eyes slid inexorably over to the small black box on the table. He thought of the syringe inside. He thought of the sharp needle and the small glass phial with its precious liquid contents. He willed himself to be strong, but he knew already that he wasn't.

- - -

Heng-wei had made the Doctor, Litefoot, Jago and the Colonel sit down at one table, where he could keep an eye on them. He allowed Anton to go over to the bar, to fix him a gin and tonic. Prewett's body had not been moved. A horrible smell of burnt flesh filled the dining car.

"Would any of you gentlemen care for a drink?" Heng-wei asked them, a small smile playing over his lips. He was sitting at a table on the other side of the train, leaning back in his chair, legs crossed. He looked calm and unruffled, his earlier madness apparently gone. His gun was lying on the table in front of him. One hand, the one shot by the Colonel, rested next to it. The bullet wound had all but healed now. In his other hand he held a cigarette, and he puffed away on this as he watched them.

"I could do with a brandy." Said Jago. The others looked at him, somewhat askance. "It's been a long evening." He added defensively.

"A man after my own heart!" Said Heng-wei. "Anton, bring Mr. Jago a large brandy."

"Oui, monsieur. At once."

Anton poured out a generous measure of brandy, and added it to the drink already on his tray. He brought it over to Heng-wei and served him his gin and tonic. Heng-wei automatically reached for his wallet, but then remembered that he was not wearing his usual clothes.

"Sorry, Anton, I seem to be financially embarrassed." He smiled amiably at him. "You'll have to wait for your tip."

Anton stared at Heng-wei, his face cold and impassive.

"That will not be necessary, monsieur." He struggled to keep the contempt he felt out of his voice, but didn't quite manage it.

Heng-wei's smile dropped away, a flash of anger replacing it.

"Just give that old fool his drink, then get back to the bar."

Anton bowed the merest fraction towards Heng-wei, keeping his eyes on him all the time. Then he turned and served Jago's brandy and went back to his station behind the bar.

Heng-wei raised his glass to the others, then took a sip.

"Your good health, gentlemen."

- - -

The Contessa had pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her purse, and had made Ace chain herself to the handle of a large steamer trunk. Now she was searching through the packages and parcels in the luggage car, tearing open any that were marked with the Sultan's crest. She had been quite methodical at first, but now she was becoming more urgent, almost frantic.

"Having trouble finding it, are we?" Asked Ace, helpfully.

"It must be here somewhere."

"I shouldn't get so worked up about it." Ace told her. "You'll only give yourself more worry lines."

The Contessa's head snapped up to glare at her. She dropped the parcel she was looking at and suddenly rushed over to Ace and slapped her round the face.

"Shut up! Shut up!" The Contessa screamed at Ace. She pulled the gun out from her purse and pointed it at Ace's head, her hand trembling.

Ace's cheek was stinging were the Contessa had hit her. Anger swelled up in her, and she started shouting back, all the horrible things that had happened to her rising up and overwhelming her common sense.

"Go on then! Bloody shoot me, see if I care! I've had just about enough of people hitting me today. Why don't you do me a favour and kill me, then at least I wouldn't have to look at your ugly face anymore."

The Contessa's finger tightened on the trigger. For a long moment she stood there, breathing heavily, seething with rage. Ace stared down the barrel of the gun and waited, so angry that she didn't care what happened next. Then the Contessa regained her control and slowly lowered the gun.

"I would very much like to shoot you, my dear. But it just so happens that I need you. For the moment at least."

She was just about to turn away, when she heard a sound coming from behind Ace. It was another parcel, and as Ace twisted round to see what the Contessa was looking at, another noise came from inside it, a pulsing, warbling sound, barely audible through the wrapping paper.

Triumph radiated from the Contessa's face. "At last!" She reached for the box, putting her gun down on top of the trunk. She took a step away from Ace, then tore open the top of the parcel, shredding the brown paper wrapping to reveal a wooden lid. She carefully placed the box on the floor, knelt down in front of it, and then took a small knife out of her purse and prised it open. The noise grew louder and a green light shone up from inside, lighting the Contessa's face from beneath, giving her skin a cadaverous look. It cast shadows on her face that made it look like a skull, with dark, empty eye sockets.

"Now you will see the power of a god!" Saying that the Contessa reached in and began to pull out the object that rested inside the box. Ace was forced to close her eyes and turn her head away as the green light flared up, filling the room with incandescent brightness.

- - -

Heng-wei seemed distracted, he kept casting glances towards the mummy which stood immobile in front of the doorway. The Doctor took advantage of this to whisper to others.

"We must overpower Heng-wei, get that gun away from him."

"But what about that mummy thing?" Asked Jago.

"I think we can deal with that as well, if we are careful, and we work together. They have a weak point on their backs. There is a red pyramid-shaped crystal, which they use to gather energy from a cytronic particle accelerator. If we can damage that in some way it might disrupt the mummy's power circuits."

"Power circuits?" Litefoot look confused. "You mean that thing is a machine?"

"Yes, Professor, it is an example of Osiran technology."

"Who are the Osirans?"

"They were a highly advanced alien species. They are extinct now. The ancient Egyptian gods were based on them, that's how powerful they were."

"And this Mouth of Setesh thing, was that made by the Osiran's as well?"

"Setesh, and Set, are alternative names which the Egyptians used for Sutekh, their desert god. He fought against Horus and was imprisoned beneath a pyramid in Egypt, which was later found by the Scarman expedition. A twisted, evil creature, Sutekh was also known as the Great Destroyer. Anything made by him will be immensely powerful, and will no doubt be malevolent in its purpose."

"But how do we get past Heng-wei?" Asked Jago. "He has a gun, he'd shoot us down if we tried anything."

"If only I had some bullets left." Said Colonel Huntington. "I fired them all into that thing, when it was attacking poor Prewett."

"Hang on!" Said Litefoot, excitedly. "I've got a gun in my pocket. I took it from Heng-wei after he was shot."

"But what good will bullets do us against him?" Asked Jago. "He's been shot twice already, and it hasn't slowed him down much."

"We don't have to kill him, we just need to grab him and hold him down. There are five of us, we should be able to overpower him." Replied the Doctor.

"All the same, I'd prefer it if you gave me that gun, Professor." Said the Colonel. "Bullets might not stop him, but they will slow him down, if it comes to it."

Litefoot carefully took the gun out of his pocket, keeping an eye on Heng-wei as he did so, then passed it to the Colonel under the table.

The Doctor frowned. "Be careful how you use that, Colonel. I'm not so sure that he's as indestructible as he appears to be. The first time he was shot he took some time to recover, but the wound on his hand was much quicker to heal. I think that whatever process is going on inside him is speeding up. He is healing very quickly, but in the process he is burning up his energy, and he doesn't have an infinite supply of it. If he exhausts it he will be vulnerable again."

"That doesn't sound such a bad thing." The Colonel said, grimly. The Doctor gave him a hard stare. "But I won't shoot him unless I have to." The Colonel didn't seem at all drunk now. Apparently the handiwork of the Ancients included a metabolism that processed alcohol very efficiently.

"Thank you, Colonel."

"Doctor, there's something else I don't understand." Said Litefoot. "How is that the Contessa now has complete control over that thing? You said before that she got the command words wrong when she ordered it to stop you from investigating, yet the thing seemed to understand English when she spoke to it in here."

"The mummy was dormant, to conserve energy. It hadn't been used for thousands of years. Nearly all of its systems would have shut down. Only the basic command interface would have been active, which probably accepted instructions only in Osiran logic-memes. The Contessa was using Scarman's translations of the hieroglyphs on the tablet that Tommy stole from the Sultan's collection in the luggage car. It must have contained a description of the basic command ideas. Either she or Scarman made a mistake somewhere and what she communicated to the mummy was not exactly what she intended. Now, however, the mummy is fully functional and its translation module must be working again. The Contessa can speak whatever language she likes into the control ring, and the mummy will understand perfectly."

"I saw that tablet earlier!" Litefoot was getting excited again, and his voice was rising. The Doctor cast a warning glance at Heng-wei, and the Professor lowered his voice back to a whisper. "Just before Heng-wei took me hostage, I saw someone in one of the empty compartments. They were looking at a stone tablet, and saying something in a strange language. It must have been the Contessa!"

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "But she'd already activated the mummy by then, and given it instructions. She must have been activating something else."

"It has to be that mouth thing, surely?" Said the Colonel.

"I think you're right. The device is probably powered up now, and ready to accept instructions." The Doctor looked worried. "We must get to that luggage car as quickly as possible. What we need is a diversion of some sort."

- - -

The light had dimmed slightly, and Ace's eyes had adjusted to the new illumination. She could see the object which the Contessa had removed from the box. It was a small globe, maybe five inches in diameter, which fitted comfortably in the Contessa's hand. It seemed to be made of glass, and the light which now filled the room was emanating from within it. At the very centre of the globe a small area of blackness flickered and shifted continuously, as if some dark flame was trapped inside the translucent sphere. The was a small depression on top of the device, surrounded by a decorative border of what looked like gold.

"What are you going to do with that thing?" Ace asked the Contessa, trying to keep any sign of apprehension out of her voice.

The Contessa didn't answer, but instead took off the scarab ring from her finger and, turning it upside down, inserted the gem on the scarab's back into the depression on the globe. The was an increase in the intensity of the green light coming from the globe, and the noise it was making rose to a painfully high pitch. The Contessa said something then, shouting the words above the sound of the globe, but Ace could not make out what it was. Then the light dimmed again, back to a more comfortable level, and the noise cut off. The Contessa took the ring away and Ace could see that the gem had separated and was now fixed into the top of the globe. Intermittent sparks of energy crackled over the globe, like a web of green lightning.

"The power of Setesh is mine to command!" The Contessa cried, as she stood up, holding the globe out before her, and took a step towards Ace. A ray of green light shot out and hit Ace in the forehead, then spread out to cover her entire body. Ace felt pain worse than she could ever remember, it coursed through her like a river of emerald fire, driving out all possibility of action. She screamed out loud and tried to turn her head away, or at least close her eyes. But she was transfixed by the beam of light, paralysed and helpless. The black heart of the globe was writhing faster now, and Ace could do nothing but watch in terror as it grew and spread towards her, opening wide like a tunnel into the cold depths of hell. Opening like a terrible gaping mouth, ready to feed on her and suck out the very roots of her life. As the blackness closed over her mind she cried out, once: "Doctor!" Then there was nothing at all.


	12. Chapter 12

In the dining car the mummy suddenly jerked, swinging one arm up into the air, turning its head from side to side, as if trying to locate something. Inside its artificial mind there was nothing but confusion. The command signal had been cut off. It no longer knew what to do, it needed orders. It started sending out a tracing call, and the same pulsing noise that had come from the scarab ring earlier now filled the air again.

Heng-wei had grabbed hold of his gun and jumped to his feet when the mummy started moving, and he looked on in surprise as it began signalling. He stood there for a second, unsure what to do about this new development, but something in the corner of his vision made him turn to face his captives. The Doctor had risen from his seat and was rushing towards him, clearly taking advantage of his momentary lapse of concentration. Heng-wei whipped the gun round, as fast as lightning, and fired at the Doctor.

_(The Doctor slowed down time. Everything in the room was now frozen in place, caught between ticks of the clock. It was an easy trick for a Time Lord, they taught it in the first year of the academy on Gallifrey. However, it was only really his perception of time that had changed. His mind was working normally, but his body was suspended just like everything else. He couldn't act, but he could buy himself some thinking time. He could take stock of his circumstances and plan a reaction to them. It took a great deal of effort, and he couldn't sustain it for more than a few subjective moments, but sometimes a little extra room for manoeuvre was all you needed to give you an edge. He could see Heng-wei's bullet coming towards him. He could judge the trajectory along which it was travelling. It was wide, but it would still hit him if he carried on as he was. However, if he shifted his weight and turned…)_

The Doctor twisted in mid-run, reacting faster than Heng-wei would have thought possible. The bullet missed his chest, but still hit him in the arm, going through his jacket sleeve, and gouging a bloody channel across his bicep. He fell to the floor and Heng-wei moved to fire at him again. Suddenly, something hard hit Heng-wei in the shoulder. He looked up in surprise and saw Colonel Huntington pointing a gun at him, ready to fire again. Heng-wei brought his gun round and the two of them fired simultaneously, hitting each other in the chest. The pain kicked in now, and his brain was filled with an ecstatic agony of fear and hatred, all directed towards the Colonel. He fired again and hit the Colonel in the side of his ribs, sending a bright red spray of blood over the wall behind him. At the same moment a flash of fire erupted from the muzzle of the Colonel's gun and Heng-wei felt himself knocked backwards into the table. He began to fall and as he fell he fired again, his aim rising. He hit the Colonel in the face this time, the bullet shattering his jaw. The Colonel still did not stop firing his own gun: Heng-wei felt a stab of pain in his leg as he collapsed to the floor, the gun falling from his hand. He tried to lift himself up, but his strength was gone. He could feel the energy in his body, it was trying to repair the damage, but it was too much. No! It could not end like this, he was so close. He refused to…

The Doctor was on his feet, but all he could do now was try to minimise the damage. He kicked Heng-wei's gun away from where he had fallen, then ran over to where the Colonel was slumped against the wall, covered in blood. Litefoot and Jago were still at the table, looking shocked. Jago had one arm over his face, as if to protect himself, and Litefoot had stood up, knocking his chair over behind him. Anton was coming up from behind the bar, where he had ducked down when the shooting started.

"George, go and look at Heng-wei, see if there's anything you can do. I'll look after the Colonel."

Litefoot looked nonplussed for a moment, but quickly came to his senses. "Of course, yes." He said quietly, then went over to check on Heng-wei.

The Colonel was alive, but he looked terrible. The bones of his jaw were visible through the wound in the side of his face. He was sitting in a rapidly expanding pool of blood, which was still oozing out of his chest wound. He was breathing in ragged gasps where the broken ribs on one side had punctured his lung.

"Lionel, listen to me! You must stay with us. Hold on." The Doctor looked into the Colonel's eyes and willed him to hang on to life. "Anton, being some towels, or sheets: anything we can use for bandages."

Anton grabbed an armful of folded linen napkins, and brought them over, stopping on the way to give some to Litefoot, who was examining Heng-wei. The Doctor started fashioning bandages out of them to try and stop the bleeding.

"I shouldn't bother with that, Doctor." It was the Colonel, speaking in a wheezing voice. "I think it's finally time for me to go."

"It's not too late, Lionel. Your body is strong. I can help you."

"I don't want you to help me. I want to die, Doctor." He stopped for a moment to cough up some blood. "This makes sense to me. I should have died in battle all those years ago, this time I can do things properly." He started to laugh, but it turned into another blood-filled coughing fit. The Doctor held a napkin to the Colonel's mouth, whilst supporting his head. Then the coughing stopped, and he felt the neck muscles relax and go limp. He took the napkin away and leant the Colonel's head gently against the wall. His eyes were focussed on some point far away, and there was a smile on his lips. He no longer moved or breathed. The Doctor reached forward slowly and closed the Colonel's eyes.

- - -

Ace felt the blackness recede, and the pain drained slowly away from her. Her vision returned and she found herself staring at the Contessa. She had knelt down again and placed the globe on the floor in front of her. In her hand she held a small mirror, and she was looking at herself in it, whilst gently touching her face. She caught sight of a small movement from Ace, and realised she was awake.

"Look at me, I am young again! I am beautiful!"

Ace could see that the Contessa had indeed been rejuvenated. She looked at least ten years younger, and she seemed to almost glow with an inner radiance.

"Thank you for your gift. I can feel your life flowing within me."

Ace felt as though she had never slept in her life. All the energy had gone from her body. She wondered if she looked as old as she felt.

"But it won't last you know." The Contessa was reaching for the globe. "The life I've taken from you will ebb away, and I will grow old again." She smiled benevolently at Ace. "And we can't have that now can we?"

"Please, don't do this. Not again." Ace felt despair overwhelm her, and she started to cry.

"Hush now, child. It will be over soon."

Ace sobbed as the green light stabbed out, and then the blackness swallowed her world again.

- - -

"He's not breathing, and there's no pulse. As far as I can tell, he really is dead this time."

Litefoot was standing next to Heng-wei's body, wiping his hands on a bloodied napkin.

"The Colonel is dead as well." The Doctor said grimly. "We need to leave here now and find Ace." The wound to his arm didn't seem to be slowing him down, and it had stopped bleeding already.

"What about the mummy?" Asked Litefoot.

"I think we can risk trying to go round it. It's still signalling, I think something must have broken the link between it and the control ring."

The mummy hadn't moved at all since the gun fight, and it was still emitting the same pulsing tone.

"I'll go first. The rest of you follow if I get past safely."

The Doctor moved slowly towards the mummy. It didn't react, even when he sidled past it into the corridor.

"George, I want you to come with me. Henry, Anton: stay here and keep an eye on this thing. If it starts to move, I want you to distract it."

"How do we do that?" Asked Jago, looking aghast.

"Shout at it. Throw things at it. Dance around singing 'Oh! Mr Porter!' Do what you like, just keep it from following us. But don't let it touch you."

The Doctor started off down the corridor, followed by Litefoot, who gingerly squeezed past the mummy, holding his breath as he did so.

Jago and Anton were left alone, staring at the carriage around them. The dining car was a mess of wrecked chairs and overturned tables. There was blood and broken glass everywhere, and a cold wind whistled in through the shattered windows. Three dead bodies were laying in various positions around the room, and the eerie pulsing call of the mummy filled the air.

"Can I get you another brandy, monsieur?"

"Good idea, Anton. And have one yourself while you're at it."

- - -

The Doctor began moving quietly as he approached the door to the luggage car. He looked round at Litefoot and put a finger to his lips. Litefoot nodded his understanding, and the Doctor carefully opened the door and looked in.

A green glow lit up the car. The Doctor couldn't see the Contessa, but he could see Ace: she was laying on the floor, handcuffed to a trunk. Even from here he could tell she looked awful. She seemed haggard and exhausted. Her hair was matted with sweat, and loose strands of it hung limply down the sides of her face. And she was crying, great wracking sobs forced out from her heaving lungs. He felt a burning, dark anger rise up inside him. His eyes seemed to blaze and the air around him darken. He turned to Litefoot, and Litefoot involuntarily took a step backwards, shocked by the Doctor's fearful aspect.

"Wait here." Hissed the Doctor.

Litefoot nodded again, his eyes wide. The Doctor walked into the luggage car and went straight over to Ace. She looked up as she heard him coming over. Relief flooded across her face, only to be quickly replaced by fear.

"Doctor," she croaked "behind you!"

The Doctor whirled round to see the Contessa emerging from her hiding place behind a large crate. She held the glowing globe in one hand, and her gun in the other. He saw that she looked young again, perhaps in her early twenties. She was stunningly beautiful, making her older self look plain by comparison.

"What a pleasant surprise it is to see you again, Doctor. Although, I am curious as to how you managed to get past my little friend."

The Doctor ignored her and knelt down next to Ace. She had stopped crying and was making a brave attempt at a smile. He brushed the hair out of her face and said "Don't worry, I'm here now. Everything will be alright."

"How touching! I hate to break up your little reunion, but I'm going to have to ask you to step away from your young lady friend. There is still some life left in her, I think."

"You don't need to take all her life force. She will regain her energy if you leave her alone. But if you take any more now, you might kill her."

"That would be… regrettable, but even now I can feel the youth slowly leaving my body. I need every drop of life I can get. I have grown old once, Doctor, and I have no intention of doing it again."

"I won't let you do this." The Doctor stood up, putting himself between the Contessa and Ace. "Stop this insanity. Even now it's not too late."

"I'll kill you too, if you force me, Doctor. I can't let anything stand in the way of the plans Tommy and I have made."

"Tommy's dead, Contessa."

The Contessa's face twisted in anger and grief, just for a moment. "No, I don't believe you! You're lying!"

"I'm not lying. There was a gun fight, and Tommy was hit, several times. Even his body could only take so much damage. He's gone, Contessa. Do you really want to spend eternity without him? It's a very long time to be alone."

"No! I won't believe it! You _are_ lying, and for that I will take your life as well, Doctor." She thrust the globe towards them. "Now, die as the Mouth of Setesh feeds upon your soul!"

The ray of light shot out towards the Doctor and Ace, but suddenly there was movement and Litefoot was rushing into the car. The Contessa turned, and the ray sprang towards him instead.

"Litefoot, no!" Shouted the Doctor, taking a step towards him. But it was too late, the light had hit him, he was transfixed, and the darkness was moving out towards him.

"Contessa, turn it off! His body is too old, you'll kill him."

Lightfoot cried out in pain as the green glow swelled to cover him like a gangrenous halo. The blackness snaked along the beam of green light, and attached itself to his forehead. The Mouth of Setesh began its dreadful feeding. But something was different. Flashes of blue and red were appearing in the green aura, and began running back along the beam from Litefoot's form, flickering over the globe in the Contessa's hand.

The Contessa suddenly convulsed, dropping to her knees and letting her gun fall to the floor. The Doctor darted over to her and tried to take the globe from her hand, but a flash of green lightning arced out at him and knocked his arm away.

"I can't stop it! It hurts!" The Contessa cried out. The green light from the globe was now marbled with the red and blue coming from Litefoot. It was also spreading over the Contessa's body, so that she and Litefoot were now joined by a swirling corona of illumination. They were both screaming in agony. As the Doctor and Ace watched they saw Litefoot and the Contessa begin to rise up into the air and draw closer together, until they were floating barely a foot apart, surrounded by a bubble of multi-coloured energy.

"What's happening?" Ace called out to the Doctor.

"No time to explain! We must get out of here." He started yanking at the handle of the trunk, trying to pull it loose in order to free Ace.

"Doctor, leave me! Get into the TARDIS."

"No! I won't go! It's coming free. I think I've…"

Suddenly the glow around Litefoot and the Contessa contracted and almost vanished, plunging the Doctor and Ace into darkness. Before they could react, the light erupted outwards in a wave of force which knocked the Doctor off his feet and sent him flying back into Ace. Litefoot and the Contessa were thrown apart and fell to the floor. The wave passed through the walls and continued onwards, leaving the luggage car in darkness again.

The car was still and quiet, the never-ending sound of the engine and the wheels on the track providing a background noise which only served to emphasise the silence. The train turned a bend and a beam of moonlight shone through the high window slits and moved across the car, casting its pale glow on boxes, parcels and trunks. Four bodies lay on the floor of the carriage. The moonlight passed over them and moved on, leaving them still and lifeless as the train drove on through the night.


	13. Chapter 13

The wave of energy continued to spread out, a bright ripple in the darkness. As it travelled away from the sides of the train, it passed through the flora and fauna that lived next to the tracks. The trees and plants it touched were effected in different ways. Some burst into life, leaves and flowers growing almost instantly to full size, only to start dying slowly in the cold air as the wave moved on. Some withered as the energy penetrated them, growing old and gnarled in a matter of moments. Many tall trees were reduced back to saplings, and slender snowdrops shrank bank into the ground and retreated into their bulbs, as if the film of their tiny lives had been set to run in reverse. Long dead tree stumps suddenly put forth branches in a series of mini resurrections. In the animals that were suffused with the chaotic force, the effects were just as random. A few seemed untouched by the experience, but inside their cells the genetic code was subtly rewritten, improving them so that they were stronger and healthier, re-setting the damage done by the harsh environment and the passage of time.

- - -

As the wave move forward along the train, it passed through the carriages and touched upon the occupants. The first to be affected was Crowley, as he lay slumped on his bed, a seven percent solution of cocaine running through his veins like his own private Orient Express. The energy reached inside him and accelerated the process of the drug, forcing him quickly through the cresting high, and plunging him without warning into the most horrendous depths of withdrawal pains. A thousand versions of hell presented their tortures to him. He cried out as he felt the remaining fragments of his wretched life tearing away from him, he had lost everything, despair pierced him like a thorn as he fell to the very nadir of his existence. Then the wave was gone, leaving him clutching at the remnants of his ego like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a rock in the middle of a vast ocean. The flame of his soul flared up, in a final bid to draw his attention and re-attach him to this world of suffering. He felt the fire within him, but it was not enough. There was nothing in this world that could save him now, so he let go of the rock and sank into the black depths. The waters rushed in and extinguished his flame. He sat up on the bed then, and opened his eyes, and for the first time he saw the light.

- - -

The next carriage with an occupant was the Sultan's. The wave passed over his dead body, illuminating the room for the briefest moment. The corpse shuddered and spasmed, then the Sultan was alive, clutching at his hand as blood sprayed out from the stump of his missing finger.

- - -

Then the wave hit the dining car. It was losing speed now as it widened out, its energy dissipating. But there was still enough to cause a dramatic series of events. The mummy was the first to feel the effects. Although it had a life of sorts, and its mind was a frighteningly clever simulation of an organic brain, it was not compatible with the power that oscillated within the wave. However, the energy was partly Osiran in origin, and the mummy decided that it had found a clue to its master's location. It began to turn and move towards the centre of the wave, back down the corridor to the luggage car.

Next in the path of the wave was the body of Prewett. The scorched flesh around his neck de-blistered and un-burnt itself, his heart re-started and his lungs drew in a frantic gasp of air. His dead eyes re-established a connection to his soul and his mind spiralled back in from the other side of oblivion. The shock of resurrection hit him hard and he lay still on the floor: alive, but with eyes unseeing and ears filled with ringing white noise.

Heng-wei's body raced through the hideous ravages of decay, flesh peeling from bone and muscles oozing into deliquescent puddles of stickiness. Soon only a skeleton remained, with dried leathery tendons stuck to it, and dust in its eye sockets. Then the wave moved over and on, and the process reversed just as quickly. Reversed and more as the dust re-shaped itself, the muscles grew back and the whole body resolved itself into a screaming Heng-wei who curled into a foetal position and covered his head with his arms.

The wave was all but spent when it washed weakly over the Colonel's corpse. The carcass twitched briefly, as if galvanised by electrical impulses, then lapsed back into immobility.

Anton and Jago were sitting at a table at the far end of the dining car, with two glasses and half a bottle of brandy between them. They had decided that they would be at a safe distance from the mummy here, whilst still being able to watch it. When the room had filled with light from the energy wave, they had turned to watch in stunned dismay at the effects it had on the bodies in the room. Anton stood up too quickly and knocked against the table, tipping his glass over and spilling brandy over the crisp white table cloth. Jago was slower to react, and was just starting to lean back as the final eddy of the rippling wave brushed up against him then disappeared. He felt a surge of power pulse through him, then die away. His hand went to his heart as icy fear welled up from his stomach. But as the power faded away, the feeling of fear went with it. In its place was confusion as he struggled to decide how to react.

"The mummy is leaving!" Shouted Anton, who had recovered from the shock more quickly.

"Do something, make it stop!" Jago squawked back at him.

Anton look around for something to distract the mummy with. He remembered the Doctor's instructions. Heng-wei was already making enough noise, and the mummy didn't seem interested, so shouting would do no good. He didn't know the words to 'Oh! Mr Porter!', so he took the only other option left and grabbed hold of the over-turned brandy glass and threw it at the mummy. It sailed through the air, going nearly the whole length of the dining car, and shattered over the back of the mummy's head.

"Oh, good shot, sir!" Exclaimed Jago.

The mummy's defence protocols kicked in, and it decided that dealing with an immediate attack on its person was more important than locating its master, in the absence of any overriding orders. It turned back to face into the carriage, and scanned the area to assess the potential attackers. Three bodies were lying on the floor, in varied states of consciousness, none of them seemed to pose a serious threat. At the far end of the carriage were two mobile humans, one standing and one just rising. It identified these as the best targets for elimination, and began to move in for the kill.

- - -

When the wave hit the Doctor he had been thrown back onto Ace. He had felt the raging temporal instability in the energy and his mind reacted instinctively by creating a barrier against it, a thin bubble of anti-time that protected him from the effects of the wave in the same way it had protected his ancestors when they first began to travel the space-time vortex in their primitive vessels. It wasn't really necessary with the later TARDIS models, of course, but this power was what had enabled his people to become the Lords of Time, and it served him now as it had them.

He could feel Ace lying underneath him, pressed against the steamer trunk. She was close enough, he thought, but did he have the strength? He remembered her cries, and how she had looked at him when he said everything would be alright. He felt the anger rise in him again, and then something more powerful than anger, and then there was no thinking any more. He extended the bubble around her too, a thin membrane that seemed so frail when compared to the vicious forces than churned around them like a whirlpool in a tempestuous ocean. "Go Back!" he shouted at the waves of time as they crashed against the barrier. "Go Back!" he cried, as the darkness from the Mouth of Setesh surged and broke against wall of his mind. "Go back" he whispered to the shadows that followed, and they fled from him like leaves before an oncoming storm.

- - -

Jago turned white as he saw the mummy charging towards him. He hadn't really thought through what it would do after it had been distracted. He fumbled around for a weapon and found that he had taken hold of the brandy bottle. The thing was almost upon him when he swung it round and brought it down with crash upon the mummy's domed skull. The bottle broke and brandy went everywhere, soaking the mummy's bandages. It didn't seem phased in the least by this. It grabbed Jago by the neck and began the squeeze the life out of him. It had used up all its stored power on Prewett, but this was not much consolation for Jago as the pounding in his head grew louder, and a black shroud began to descend over his eyes.

Suddenly the mummy dropped Jago, who slumped to his knees, and spread its arms out wide and began flailing around, as if trying to reach something behind it. It turned round on the spot allowing Anton to see its reverse side. The point of a red crystal pyramid was sticking out of the bandages, and next to this was Heng-wei's hatchet, buried in the mummy's back. There was a crack across the surface of the crystal, close to the hatchet. Behind the mummy stood Colonel Huntington, still bloodied and mangled, but apparently very much alive.

The mummy reached around behind it and managed to pull the hatchet out. Sparks of energy rushed out of the wound, running over the bandages and igniting the brandy. The cloth was old and dry, and the mummy went up like a bonfire. Within moments it was burning like a wicker man, its metal skeleton showing through the blazing remnants of bandage. It staggered round the dining car, unable to see because of the flames and the smoke, banging into walls and knocking over chairs and tables. Unable to draw any more energy through its broken crystal receiver, it finally collapsed on the floor, the last vestiges of its wrappings smouldering around it.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that this bloody thing is actually dead?" said the Colonel, as he stood over the mummy's body. Its metal head was now clearly visible, and there was still a faint glow in each of the optical receptors that served it for eyes. The Colonel had retrieved the hatchet again and weighed it in his hand for a moment, then swung it down with all his strength and embedded it right in the middle of the mummy's forehead. A few final sparks shot out, and the mummy convulsed briefly, then it became still, and the glow faded from its eyes.

The Colonel fumbled in his jacket for a cigarette, lit it, then took a long slow drag as he looked over to where Jago and Anton were standing, staring at him. "You know," he said, "life would be a lot simpler if people would just stay dead."

- - -

The energy had gone now, so the Doctor let his defences drop and struggled to his feet. The Mouth of Setesh had started glowing again, providing a sickly green light for him to see by. He looked at Ace, who was unconscious once more, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the wave of power. Then he turned to examine Litefoot and the Contessa. They were both alive, but they were most definitely affected. The Contessa was now an old woman, in her mid-seventies the Doctor guessed. Litefoot, on the other hand, had gone the opposite way. He seemed to be a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old. His clothes were far too big for him, but he seemed quite peaceful as he slept.

"Hello," said a voice behind the Doctor, "can you tell me where I am?"

The Doctor turned around to see the Contessa had lifted herself up onto her elbow and was looking at him with a friendly, innocent smile.

"Don't you remember, Contessa?"

She looked confused for a moment, then smiled again. "Is that me?" she asked. "Am I a Contessa? How wonderful! It sounds very romantic, doesn't it?"

The Doctor went over to her and knelt next to her, helping her to sit up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mirror. He handed it to the Contessa who took it and looked at her reflection. She seemed puzzled at first, one hand touching the mirror, then touching her face as if to confirm that what she saw was real. Then a broad grin beamed from her face.

"That's me, isn't it?" She looked at the Doctor with wide, happy eyes.

"Yes, it is." The Doctor smiled back.

"What are you two looking at?" said another voice behind the Doctor. It was Litefoot, looking comical in his over-large clothes. He was leaning over the Doctor's shoulder and trying to see the mirror.

"It's a mirror," said the Contessa, "would you like to see?"

"Yes please."

The Contessa handed the mirror to Litefoot and he examined himself in it. He didn't seem very interested in his face, but looked a little worried when he saw how silly his clothes looked.

"Are these my clothes? They don't fit very well, do they?"

"They do look a little large." Said the Contessa. "I expect we can find something better for you though. Perhaps this nice man can help you?"

They both looked expectantly at the Doctor, who frowned for just a moment, then grinned and said, "Yes, I think I probably can."

"Er, excuse me?" Said yet another voice behind the Doctor. "What's going on?" Ace had woken up, and was looking very confused. "Who are these two?"

"I'll explain everything later. First, there's something I have to do." The Doctor walked towards the Mouth of Setesh were it had rolled on the floor, away from the Contessa. He looked at it for a moment, then brought his foot up and stamped down on it, shattering the crystal orb into a thousand pieces. The green glow disappeared and the luggage car was plunged into darkness once more.

"Great," said Ace, "couldn't you have taken these handcuffs off me first?"


	14. Chapter 14

"By Jove, you're alive!" Exclaimed Jago, still staring at the Colonel, dumbfounded.

"Yes," said the Colonel, "I seem to be making rather a habit if this, don't I?"

The Colonel's jaw appeared to have mended itself, although the flesh around the bullet wound was still broken and oozing blood.

"The others are alive too." Said Anton, nodding towards Heng-wei and Prewett. Heng-wei had stopped screaming now, but was still curled into a foetal position, rocking himself gently and sobbing quietly. Prewett was breathing, but just lay there staring into space.

The Colonel picked up a chair and put it upright, then sat down on it. Several of the lamps nearby had been broken in the mummy's rampage, but amazingly nothing had caught fire and there was still enough light to see by.

"Any chance of a drink, Anton? I could murder a whisky"

Anton looked at him blankly, then seemed to recollect where he was. "Of course, monsieur." He shook himself into action and walked gingerly towards the bar. As he walked past Heng-wei he went to step around him, but was startled when Heng-wei's arm shot out and grabbed his ankle.

"I felt it all!" Heng-wei hissed at him. "I was still alive when it happened. Weng-Chiang's energy was keeping me alive."

Anton broke free from Heng-wei's grip, but continued to look at him, a horrified expression on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I felt the grave take me, I felt myself decay and rot. But I was still alive, my mind was still there, feeling it all!"

"Mon dieu!"

Heng-wei continued to stare at him for a moment, then his face crumpled and he began to cry. Anton's look of horror was slowly replaced by one of compassion. He turned to look at Jago and the Colonel.

"His mind is broken. Is there nothing we can do for him?"

The Colonel shrugged, not looking very sympathetic.

"Perhaps the Doctor could help, if he's managed to sort out the Contessa." Said Jago.

Colonel Huntington looked shocked. "Good lord! I'd forgotten all about that. She's got that young girl hostage. Did the Doctor go after them?"

"Yes, he managed to get away after you got… well, after the gun fight."

"Where are they?"

"In the luggage car, I presume."

"We'd better get down there. We'll take this one with us," the Colonel nodded towards Heng-wei, "we don't want him doing any more damage."

"What about Prewett?"

"Well, he seems quiet enough for the moment. He should be alright where he is."

Jago and Anton exchanged glances, they didn't seem entirely convinced, but neither of them felt like arguing with the Colonel either. The Colonel looked around where he had previously been lying, then bent down and picked something up off the floor. He smiled grimly as he checked the gun which Litefoot had passed on to him, the one he had taken from Heng-wei.

"Empty," he said and put it down on the table, "have a look round for the one he was using."

The others helped him search and they quickly found Heng-wei's other gun where the Doctor had kicked it under a table. The Colonel checked the chambers.

"Two bullets left. Should be enough. Pick him up and follow me, try to keep him quiet."

Jago and Anton pulled Heng-wei to his feet. He was mumbling softly to himself, a look of pain on his face, but he seemed otherwise undamaged. It appeared that the energy wave had left him repaired and whole, at least as far as his body was concerned. Jago took one side, and Anton the other, and they half led and half dragged him after the Colonel as he disappeared out of the dining car.

- - -

The Sultan of Rajmanali was not feeling very happy. His last memory was of a horrible choking death, his windpipe had swollen and he had been unable to draw a breath. Then he had woken up, apparently reborn, but missing a finger. As he clutched at his hand, trying to stem the flow of blood, he became aware of a pain in his chest. He heaved himself upright, swinging his legs onto the floor.

Just then, without warning, the lights came back on. He looked down at his chest and saw the silver letter opener sticking out of it, his family crest looking back at him in silent mockery. He nearly passed out again from the shock, but he somehow managed to stagger over to the bathroom and bandage his hand up using a towel, then stood there looking at himself in the mirror. He was pale and sweaty, but definitely alive. He carefully tore open his shirt, extending the rip around the blade. The flesh was livid and swollen next to the wound, but no blood came out. It was impossible! The knife was piercing his heart, there was no way he could survive this. And yet, here he was…

He grasped the hilt with his good hand, and began to pull the opener slowly out of his chest. He groaned with the pain, but still no blood came out, so he carried on, until the blade was completely free of his body. The gash had closed itself up as he withdrew the blade, and even as he watched it knitted together so that it was more of a scar than a wound. He dropped the opener onto the floor and stood staring at it for a moment. Then a frown came over his face. He unwrapped the towel around his right hand and looked in wonder as he saw that the stub of his little finger had healed over, and even now it seemed a little longer than it had before.

The Sultan's mind had almost given up by now. He was barely functioning. He tried to call out to Prewett, but only a dry whisper issued from his throat. He lurched over to the connecting door, the one that led to Prewett's room. He slid the door open, but as he looked through he could see that Prewett was not there. He staggered over to the door that went out into the corridor. It was locked, and he fumbled unsuccessfully with it, before giving up and going back through the connecting door, then out into the corridor via Prewett's compartment.

- - -

Prewett lay in the near-darkness, his mind floating and peaceful. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. Suddenly, the lights came back on. His brain registered the change in brightness, and his eyes blinked, but he did not otherwise react. Some time passed, then his ears heard the sound of someone entering the dining car. He processed the sound of the person shuffling around, then bumping into a table, but he was not connected to that part of his psyche.

"Where is everyone?" said a voice, "Prewett?"

He recognised that voice. It stirred his soul and brought it back into the conscious world, like a cork bobbing up through water. His eyes blazed with anger and he moved then, twisting so that he could locate the hated source of the words. The Sultan was here! He was facing away from Prewett and did not see him stand up, did not see as Prewett took up the gun from the table where the Colonel had left it. The Sultan stood as if frozen, staring down the corridor towards the luggage car, trying to decide what to do next. Then he heard a voice behind him, low and deadly, like the hiss of a snake.

"Turn around."

The Sultan turned, slowly, still numb from everything that had happened to him. He saw Prewett standing in front of him, barely ten feet away.

"Prewett," he croaked, "what's going on? What happened?"

Prewett said nothing, but slowly raised the gun to point straight at the Sultan's head.

"What are you doing?"

The Sultan gaped in disbelief, he couldn't understand what was happening.

"You killed my father, and sent my mother mad. Now I'm going to kill you."

Prewett was shaking with rage, but he kept the gun steady. The Sultan tried to process his words, but he couldn't work out what to say in response.

"I don't understand! Who was your father?"

"You don't even remember, do you?" Prewett began to shout, his anger overwhelming him. "He was just a minor inconvenience to you. He was nothing."

Prewett's finger tightened on the trigger. The Sultan took a step back, finally realising the danger he was in.

"Wait! Please, don't shoot." The Sultan held up his hands, looking terrified. "You know how much money I have. Whatever you want, it's yours."

"Can you buy back my father? Can you give back the lost years to my mother?"

The Sultan fell to his knees, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Please, have mercy!"

Prewett's face was twisted with fury. The gun still pointed at the Sultan, who stared into the darkness of the muzzle, all thoughts and emotions sucked into that hideous emptiness.

"You disgust me, you piece of filth." Said Prewett, letting the anger flood through him, burning out his conscience and any thoughts of pity. He was ready now! This time there would be no weakness, no hesitation. This time he would have his revenge. All he had to do was pull the trigger and…

"James! Stop!"

A new voice. Prewett's head snapped up. In the doorway of the carriage stood Crowley, his orange robes rustling around him in the breeze from the broken window. He seemed… different, somehow. He still looked gaunt and unshaven, and his greasy hair still hung limply around his head, but there was a look on his face that drew the eye away from all that. He was showing concern at what Prewett was about to do, and yet there was a peacefulness about him that radiated outwards. He looked as if he had a secret to share.

"Please, wait a moment, and listen to me."

Prewett's gaze moved between Crowley and the Sultan. His anger was mixed with confusion now, but it was still enough for what he had to do.

"Whatever you have to say, it won't make any difference. I've been given another chance to do my duty. I won't get it wrong this time."

"Look at yourself, James. You are ruined by anger. It has eaten away at you and left you a hollow shell, a husk. And you!" he looked down at the Sultan, "Where has your greed brought you? What have you done in pursuit of wealth and power? What joy did it ever bring you, that you had to come to me for magic potions to keep away the darkness?" Crowley's voice did not raise, he spoke evenly. He seemed a little sad, but it did not dim the compassion that he so obviously felt. "I was poisoned, just like both of you. I thought that I was on a great journey, that I had something of value to offer others, but it was all a delusion, I was going nowhere at all and all I offered was slavery."

As he spoke he stepped slowly forwards, so that he stood between Prewett and the Sultan. He raised his hand, palm upwards, towards Prewett.

"Give me the gun, James. Give me your anger."

Prewett tried to keep hold of his rage, to focus on his pain. All he had to do was apply the smallest amount of pressure with his finger. But then he would hit Crowley now, and he didn't want that. He wasn't a murderer. He couldn't kill another human being. And with those thoughts his anger drained away. He carefully placed the gun in Crowley's hand, and then started to cry.

Crowley put a hand on his shoulder and led him over to a chair to sit down. As he did so, he looked over to where the Sultan still knelt on the floor, shaking with relief.

"Stand up, and come and join us. There is a lot to do."

The Sultan looked at him in wonder. Nothing seemed to make sense in his world anymore. He had died, then come back to life, then almost died again. He couldn't seem to hold on to any thoughts. Nothing seemed to be solid, except Crowley. He was standing there, looking at him. Waiting for him.

"I will follow you," the Sultan said, "but tell me first, what are you? Are you a prophet? Or an angel?"

Crowley smiled.

"No, I am just a man who has woken up."

- - -

The Colonel held a finger to his lips, as he readied himself. Jago and Anton nodded back, Anton holding a hand clasped over Heng-wei's mouth to keep him silent. The Colonel took a deep breath then ran through the door into the luggage car, dodging round the wooden boxes and bursting out into the area where the Doctor and the others were situated.

"Nobody move!" he shouted, trying to aim the gun at everyone simultaneously.

An electric lamp had been placed on top of a steamer trunk and a wire ran from it into the TARDIS. The Doctor was squatting near Ace, trying to open the set of handcuffs around her wrists with a bent pin. An old lady in a black dress was sitting on a smaller trunk, being supported by a young boy in a ridiculously large suit. Everyone looked up as the Colonel made his entrance.

"You're a bit late!" said Ace.

"Weren't you dead last time I saw you?" asked the Doctor.

"Is that a real gun?" asked the young boy.

Colonel Huntington hovered for a second or two, not quite sure what to do, then sighed and lowered the gun.

"Is there any point in asking what happened here?"

"It's quite simple," replied the Doctor, standing up, "The Contessa here used an alien device to extract the life force from Litefoot, but the Zygma energy he carried in him caused the device to malfunction and instead her life force was sucked out of her and used to regress Litefoot into a young boy."

The Colonel looked from the old lady to the young boy, then at Ace who was still handcuffed to a trunk, then back to the Doctor.

"Well, that makes about as much sense as anything else that's happened on this train."

"That's the spirit!" The Doctor grinned at him.

"I say," said a voice from behind the large box that housed the mummy case, "can we come in yet?"

Jago's face appeared round the edge of the box, looking nervous.

"Jago!" cried the Doctor, "Good to see you! Who's that with you?"

"It's Anton and Heng-wei."

"Another one risen from the grave?" the Doctor looked puzzled for a moment, then a look of comprehension spread over his face, "Of course! The temporal wave must have been made partially coherent by the residual recombination matrix copied from Litefoot's energy signature. Have you checked the others?"

"Prewett's alive, if that's what you mean?" said the Colonel.

"Has anyone checked the Sultan? Or Crowley? Who knows what effect it might have had on them."

"Good lord!" said Jago, "You mean the Sultan might have been brought back as well?"

"Why not?" said the Colonel, "Resurrections seem to be two-a-penny today."

"Anton, could you go and check on them and see what state they're in?"

"Bien sur, Docteur." Anton helped Jago to lower Heng-wei to the floor, then went off down the corridor to check Crowley's compartment first.

"I say Doctor, who are these two, and what's happened to George and the Contessa?"

The Doctor gave Jago an appraising look, then broke into an impish smile. He went over to Jago and whispered something into his ear.

"Good lord!" said Jago, looking over at the young boy. He looked back at the Doctor, "Are you sure that would work?"

"I don't see why not. Why don't you ask him?"

Jago looked back at the boy again, shuffled his feet, harrumphed a bit, then said, "Hello young man."

"Hello," said the young Litefoot, "who are you?"

"I er… that is to say… ah… I'm your uncle Henry." Jago looked extremely uncomfortable and appeared to be turning a very bright shade of red.

"You're my uncle?"

"Yes, that's right. Your uncle."

"Do I live with you?"

"Yes, you live in my house."

George gave Jago a hard stare, then smiled and said, "That's good, I was a bit worried about that. I can't seem to remember much of anything at the moment."

Jago smiled too, and put an avuncular hand on George's shoulder. "Don't you fret, young chap, we'll soon have you domiciled in the most desirable of dwellings. Get some proper togs for you, and all that, what?"

"That sounds splendid, uncle Henry."

The Doctor was still smiling at all this, but then his gaze fell on Heng-wei, who had curled up on the floor again.

"What shall we do about you, poor Tommy?" he said to himself.

"Tommy?" said a frail voice, "I know that name."

The Contessa was struggling to stand up. George went over to her and helped her up.

"Thank you, young man. Now, let's take a look at this Tommy, shall we?"

George took the Contessa's arm and supported her as she tottered over to where Heng-wei was lying. She bent down, squinting her eyes to look at his face in the dim light.

"I know you," She said to him, "I remember your face."

Heng-wei slowly uncurled and raised himself to his knees. He looked up at the Contessa, his eyes wide.

"Is that you, my queen? Have you come for me?"

The Contessa put out a withered hand to Heng-wei and lightly touched his face. As she looked at him tears welled up in her eyes.

"Yes, it's me Tommy. I'm here now. Everything will be alright."

Heng-wei threw his arms around the Contessa's waist and pulled her to him, weeping. She cradled his head in her arms and stroked his hair, whispering gently to him. He closed his eyes and emptied his mind of every thought but her.

- - -

Anton checked in Crowley's room first, and finding no one there, moved on to look into the Sultan's compartment. He used his pass-key to enter, and was shocked to see that the Sultan's body was gone, and that there was a bloody towel on the floor.

He came back out into the corridor and looked towards the dining car. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and went back to the luggage car to let the others know what he had discovered.

- - -

There was click and the handcuffs popped open.

"At last!" Ace exclaimed, grumpily. She stood up, rubbing her wrists. She still felt as though someone had ran over her with a steam roller, but thankfully the horrific memories of the effects of the Mouth of Setesh seemed to be fading away, not that she was trying very hard to hang on to them.

The Doctor got to his feet as well, and looked over to where the others were standing. Heng-wei and the Contessa were still locked in a tight embrace. Colonel Huntington was talking to Jago and George, and Anton was off looking for the others.

"You know what?" he said to Ace.

"What?"

"I think now would be a good time to make our getaway."

Ace looked around the luggage compartment, at the mess that had mostly been made by her, and decided that she didn't want to be there when the tidying-up started.

"Good idea. But won't they notice when we unplug the lamp?"

The Doctor pulled out the wire leading from the lamp to the TARDIS, and the lamp remained on.

"Rechargeable batteries!"

"Nice one, Professor! Now, let's go before anyone sees."

The Doctor led the way back into the TARDIS, winding up the cable as he went. Ace hovered in the doorway for a moment, taking a last look around. He eyes fell onto one of the packages she had thrown at the mummy earlier. It had split open to reveal something small and shiny inside. On a sudden impulse she bent down and scooped it up. It was a little statue of a man with a dog's head.

"Neat," thought Ace, "a souvenir."

She went into the TARDIS and shut the door, just as Anton returned.

"I cannot find them, Docteur…" he trailed off as he realised the Doctor was not there.

"That's odd, he was here a second ago." Said the Colonel looking around.

A loud groaning, grinding noise filled the air in the luggage car, and a light flashed on and off. The large blue box in the corner slowly faded away, much to the astonishment of the onlookers.

"Good lord, he's done it again!" cried Jago.

There was a moment's silence, then Anton shouted, "Look! The mummy case!"

Everyone turned to see as the sarcophagus lid began to swing slowly open. Colonel Huntington drew out his gun, Heng-wei leapt up, shielding the Contessa with his body, and Jago grabbed hold of George, drawing him away from the looming darkness.

A hand came out of from behind the lid, followed by an arm, then a shoulder, then finally a very confused looking Frederique emerged fully into view.

"Where am I? What has happened?"

The Colonel looked at Jago, and Jago looked at Anton, and Anton shrugged his shoulders.

"Right," said the Colonel, "who wants to go first?"


	15. Epilogue

A man sat at a table. On the table was a large mirror. He sat facing his reflection.

"She has taken it on board, then?"

"Yes."

"And he knows nothing?"

"No."

"When the other pieces have been gathered, we will act to relocate them temporally."

"It's just a matter of time."

The man smiled to himself, then turned away from the mirror.


End file.
